Buffy the High School Student
by Arsahi
Summary: ALTERNATE UNIVERSE FIC. DO NOT READ IF YOU EXPECT THE FOLLOWING: POPULAR CORDELIA, THE SLAYER, DEMONS, VAMPIRES, OR A GOOD-GUY ANGEL. Chp. 10 up!
1. 1/Prologue & The Diamond

TITLE: Buffy the High School Student  
  
PART: Prologue & One   
  
AUTHOR: Arashi  
  
RATED: PG  
  
SUMMARY: AU. Everyone's human.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon owns all except this fic. I'm only borrowing  
the characters and settings and etc.  
  
DEDICATION: To Kayla and Mae, my betas; Sun-chan, who's always been  
supportive of me; MysLii, 'cause...well, she's just cool :P. And to  
Jason, who would've made a better Dawn than Michelle Trachtenburg.  
  
FEEDBACK: Please?  
  
NOTES: Okay, for those who like Angel and Xander, Jason brought up  
a good point: I AM a little hard on Angel and Xander. But that's   
the way I designed them in this. So...well, if you flame me for it,  
I'll just reply that this IS an alternate-universe story.  
  
~* Buffy the High School Student *~  
  
PROLOGUE  
A slim, compact 19-year-old male with nearly white, bleached blond hair  
waering a duster, crept down an alley with unnatural silence. He   
obviously had had a lot of practice doing...whatever he was doing. He  
kicked a small rock by accident, sending it flying into the chainlink-  
and-picket fence. It rattled the metal against what was left of the   
wood noisily, bounced off, and landed onn the lid of a tin trash can  
with a dull plunk. The man ducked behind a crate and flattened himself  
against the wall, waiting for whoever was currently in the kitchen of  
the Chinese restaurant to his left or whoever was taking a break in   
the back of the bookstore to his right to come investigate the noise.  
Fortunately, neither of them magically appeared in a rectangle of   
light.  
  
The boy released the breath he'd been holding silently and   
checked his pocket to see if his prize was still there. The filched  
wallet had yet to be inspected, but was still in his pocket, much to  
his relief. Now wasn't the time to rifle through its contents and  
risk losing it. Besides, he had HER to dodge on his way into the   
house he lived in, along with her mother.   
  
He slid up to the chain fence, shimmied up the fence using   
empty, upturned crates and trash cans, and leapt over to the other  
side He rolled as he hit the ground, ignoring the sharp pain that  
lanced through his entire body. He reached the sidewalk parallel to  
to second main drag of Sunnydale, California and sighed with relief.  
It was always a rush to do this. Now came the tricky part. He had  
to walk as if it were normal of him to take a stroll on the sidewalk  
at 11:30 p.m., and not as if he were carrying the Olympic torch.   
He also had to avoid policemen and make it seem like he wasn't. He  
began to whistle the tune of "I Wanna Be Sedated", then began to sing  
the lyrics softly to himself.   
  
Someone jostled past him, but he paid no mind to them. At   
least, not until they said, "William?"  
  
William stopped and rolled his eyes. He recognized the voice  
as that of the boyfriend of HER. "Cheerio, Liam," William said   
sarcastically. He didn't like Liam, didn't approve of HER dating  
him either. Couldn't figure out why though. "Out for a midnight  
stroll?"  
  
"Yes, actually," Liam replied. "And yourself?"  
  
"The same," William fished a lighter and a cigarette out of  
his pocket and sparked it up.   
  
"That's--you know shouldn't be doing that, Will," Liam advised.  
  
"And you should mind your own bloody damn business," William  
snarled, turing on the older man. "Be careful who you call 'Will'  
as well, Peaches." He smirked. "The name's Spike. Spike Walthrop."  
  
END PROLOGUE  
  
PART ONE  
  
Buffy Summers sat unattentively in her history class at Sunnydale  
High. She was a senior this year, and knew she shouldn't blow off  
classes (ESPECIALLY this year), but she couldn't help it. She was  
so utterly bored.   
  
A piece of notebook paper traveled from one end of the room  
to the other, and finally back to Buffy. It was from Willow   
Rosenburg, one of her best friends.   
  
'Buffy:  
Meet me at the library after class? Pass this to   
Xander too... okay?  
~Will'  
  
Buffy quickly rewrote the note and sent the note on its way  
to Xander Harris, who took the note, read it, and nodded to Willow  
and Buffy discreetly. Buffy yawned and began to doodle on what was  
supposed to be notes on whatever the teacher was droning on about--  
she didn't even know what today's topic was--and think about her   
current boyfriend: Liam, or Angel, McDowe. Then her thought train  
pulled into Spike Station.  
  
Spike...William Walthrop. That boy was nothing but trouble.  
He showed up to three out of eight classes, and was rarely around  
campus for lunch. And she had the severe misfortune of having to  
share a home with him. Her mother, Joyce, was rather fond of him,  
so had immediately taken him under wing. Spike was from Britain,  
Liam had brought him here to escape being arrested. From Buffy's  
understanding, the only reason Spike attended school (AN: imagine  
that, SPIKE attending high school...) was that Angel had threatened  
to turn him into the police if he didn't. Angel had sound proof of  
Spike's being guilty.   
  
Buffy had to admit--he WAS hot, though the bad boy image he  
projected...she wondered if it was a mask, then quickly dismissed  
the thought. 'He's 100% bad boy...well, 99.99%. There's a little  
bit of angel in that man...'  
  
The bell rang, interrupting Buffy's thoughts. She glanced  
down at her notebook, blushed, and closed it. She had been absently  
doodling Spike's name. Not good. She shoved everything into her bag  
and stood up, nearly being knocked over by someone else. Sweet yet  
spicy cologne and cigarette smoke wafted over her, numbing her senses  
for a moment. Another scent invaded her mind, joining the other two:  
peppermint.   
  
"Careful there, princess," strong hands held her steady. The  
voice...British accent...Spike!  
  
Buffy yanked free of Spike and almost fell over once more, only  
to be caught and laughed at by him. "Leave me alone, WILLIAM."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and let her go, his ever-present smug  
grin on his face. "As Her Royal Highness commands," he mock-bowed  
and cleared the way for her.  
  
"You're such a jerk," Buffy told him, her cheeks red from   
falling twice and doodling his name in her notebook.  
  
Spike chuckled, following her down the aisle and in front of  
the class. "And your reaction makes it all worth-while, luv."  
  
"Don't call me that," Buffy sighed, discreetly pulling out  
the page in her notebook without looking and crumpling it up. She  
dropped it in the trash can on their way out. "Or I'll tell Angel  
that you've been skipping."  
  
"Ooooo," Spike mocked her. "Gonna go tell your big ball of  
fluff that I've been skipping?"  
  
"Yes," Buffy said sternly. "If you keep calling me 'luv' and  
'princess' and stuff."  
  
"You don't have the stones to turn me into your beau," Spike  
challenged her.  
  
"Oh yeah? I do TOO have the...stones...to turn you into   
Angel!" Buffy protested. "Your ass will be in jail faster than you  
can blink."  
  
"I highly doubt it," Spike rolled his eyes once more, still  
walking with her.  
  
Buffy noticed, and stopped. Spike walked a few more steps,  
noticed she wasn't walking with him anymore, and stopped as well. He  
turned to face her with a questioning look, to which she answered,  
"Don't you have somewhere else to be? You know, walls to graffiti,  
windows to smash, a home to vandilize?"   
  
"I'm offended," Spike scoffed.  
  
"And you should be," Buffy answered.  
  
Spike sighed. "And you have your court to answer too." He  
looked over Buffy's shoulder. "Here comes Prince Charming as we   
speak."  
  
Buffy sighed and shook her head as Xander approached.   
  
"He giving you a hard time again, Buff?" Xander asked, keeping  
his eyes on Spike.   
  
Spike arched an eyebrow at him, "I'm not a bloody bug you know.  
What, do I have Buffy's lipstick on me?"  
  
"You've been in my lipstick?" Buffy asked innocently.  
  
"I wouldn't doubt it," Xander rolled his eyes. "Come on, we   
have to go meet Will, remember?"  
  
Buffy nodded, "I remembered. I got sidetracked though. Spike  
can't seem to take a hint."  
  
"Let me spell it out, Billy Idol," Xander said. "Buffy. Needs.  
To. Go. Meet. Her. Friends. Now. Got it?"  
  
"What was that? Buffy needs to go meet her friends?" Spike   
replied sarcastically.  
  
"Oh that's so funny I forgot to laugh," Buffy muttered under   
her breath. "C'mon Xander."  
  
They turned and started towards the library.  
  
"Have fun, kiddies!" Spike called after them.  
  
***  
Liam, a.k.a. Angel, McDowe sat in Starbucks, waiting for his   
cappuccino. His cell phone jingled on the table and threatened to  
fall off, but Liam picked it up and said, "Hello."  
  
:Angelus,: said an ominous, male voice on the other end.  
  
"Yes," he replied. "This is he."  
  
:The cat is in the bag,: the voice answered. :We expect to see  
you at the meeting place.:  
  
"I'll be there, I promise," Liam told the man on the other side.  
  
:Make sure you are.: The line went dead. Liam sighed and closed  
his cell phone, shoving it in his pocket. A girl with brown hair, about  
23, called "Number 33!" from the front counter. Liam sighed, ran a hand  
through his hair, and rose.   
  
He grabbed his cappuccino from the girl, who's pale skin contrasted  
violently with her dark, nearly black, hair. He left a ten dollar bill   
on the counter and left, without a word.   
  
Liam sipped his cappuccino out of the Styrofoam cup and vowed   
never to drink coffee from that Starbucks again. Of course, he always  
mentally promised himself that, but he was a returning customer to that  
particular coffee house. The reason for that being that there were no  
other coffee houses in Sunnydale, not even a locally run cafe. At least,  
not within his range.   
  
Liam unlocked his car and sat in the driver's seat, momentarily  
forgetting what was happening. It seemed that this was a recurring event,  
being disoriented. Distantly, he wondered if this was the effect of   
having an extremely stressful life. He plunged the key into the   
ignition and turned, the engine hummed to life. Foot on the pedal...  
'No, not the brake, the gas pedal, you ass'...turn the steering wheel...  
drive slowly out of the parking lot...  
  
This was the only way he knew how to deal with this   
disorientation. Maybe it was something in the Starbucks...but that  
would be impossible. He scratched his head, checked his speedometer,  
and watched the road once more.   
  
The "cat was in the bag". That was the important thing. That  
was what he had to focus on, that and driving. The meeting place was...  
where was the meeting place again? Oh yes, the basement of the local  
teen club, The Bronze. No one would think to check down there, unless  
they went down there for a little extra fun. They would just keep an  
incognito couple making out in front of the door. That was the end of  
that problem.  
  
Of course, his accomplice would arrive at 9 o'clock, and Liam  
would arrive at 9:44 p.m. That would keep him antsy for the day, and  
that would also prevent him from seeing Buffy, at least until the day  
after.  
  
Liam's cell phone rang once more. "Damn," he swore, luckily  
pulling up to a stop sign and taking the oppurtunity to dig his cell  
phone out of his pocket. The time on his car's clock read 11:52 a.m.  
Chances were, it was Buffy calling him on her lunch break. "Damn,"  
he cursed again, flipping open the cell phone and pulling the antenna  
up. "Yo, this is Liam."  
  
:Angel,: Buffy said happily.  
  
'She's so predictable,' Liam thought. "Hello, Buffy."  
  
:Hi. You busy?: she asked.  
  
"Actually, yes," Liam lied. He wasn't busy, he just didn't want  
to see her right now.  
  
:Oh,: she sounded disappointed. :I was hoping we could have  
lunch together...:  
  
"I'm sorry," Liam lied once more. He wasn't sorry. He wasn't  
sorry at all. In fact, he was glad he didn't have to see his whiny  
brat of a girlfriend. He didn't love her, he didn't hardly even like  
her. "Maybe tomorrow."  
  
:I'd like that,: Buffy answered.  
  
"Can't wait," Liam continued to spew lies. The only thing he  
couldn't wait for right now was to meet his accomplice at The Bronze.  
  
:Well...my friends and I are going to The Bronze tonight--:  
  
"Didn't you hear?" Liam interrupted her.  
  
:What? Hear what?: Buffy asked.  
  
"The Bronze is closed tonight," Liam told her. He drove around  
the perimeter of most of one of Sunnydale's graveyards, pulling onto   
a secluded street.   
  
:What?: Buffy was puzzled.  
  
"The Bronze. It's closed tonight. They're spraying for bugs or  
something," Liam stopped his car and turned it off, quietly getting   
out and walking towards the park. He sat at one of the benches.  
  
:Oh. I didn't hear that. I'll tell the others. Thanks, Angel,  
we would've wasted our evening,: Buffy sighed.  
  
"No problem. Anything for you," Liam was getting tired of   
spewing this complete and utter bull at Buffy. It was fun to see what  
he could come up with sometimes though.  
  
:Well I better get going. Love you,: Buffy hung up the phone.  
  
"Why is everybody doing that to me?" Liam wondered as he closed  
his cell phone and headed back to his car.  
  
***  
Spike wandered behind the high school building and lit up a cigarette.  
Ever since his encounter with his house-mate this morning, Spike's mind  
had been wandering a mile a minute. It was mostly focussed on Angel,  
or as he often referred to him as: Liam or Peaches. Spike had been into  
petty thievery in Great Britain, and was into purse-snatching and the  
occasional illegal drinking now, but he had a feeling Angel was into   
more than just that. He had a feeling Angel was a drug lord, or...or...  
bank robbery. Maybe he was a hitman? All Spike knew was that Angel was  
a danger to Buffy, a danger to Joyce, a danger to himself, and a danger  
to all of Buffy's friends. But no matter how he tried to warn Buffy,  
or any of them, they all just said he was being paranoid.   
  
"Well let's see how bloody paranoid I am when one of us turns   
up dead," he muttered, taking one last drag off of his cigarette,   
dropping it to the ground, and stomping it out.  
  
For some strange reason, Spike felt closely akin to Joyce   
Summers, and as for Buffy...Spike didn't know what he felt for Buffy,  
but since mother and daughter lived in a house without a father-  
figure, he felt he had to protect the women. So that may have been  
why he didn't approve of Buffy dating Angel McDowe. Spike snorted and  
shook his head. He had been sitting against the brick wall of the  
school, but now he rose and dusted off his pants. He was turning  
soft, that's what was happening. Instead of worry if the police were  
on his tail, he was worrying about his best friend's daughter's choice  
in men. He chuckled and shook his head again.  
  
Spike walked parallel to the back of the building and was about  
to turn the corner when he was nearly bowled over by one of Buffy's  
friend--a redhead with short hair who went by the name of Willow, and  
was the only one who was nice to him. She was the one who had been  
passing the note in history, and dimly Spike wondered if she knew that  
he had saw the note. Not that it mattered. "Why, hello, Red.   
Delightful to run into you here, fancy that."  
  
Willow practically turned the color of her hair. "Um...um..."  
  
Spike took out another cigarette and offered it to her. She  
shook her head. "Suit yourself," he shrugged, and lit it up.   
"What're you doin', lurkin' about out here before school's out? This  
isn't your free period, and I though you goody-two-shoes-types never  
skipped. No offense."  
  
"N-none taken," Willow stammered. She adjusted her backpack on  
her shoulder. "I-I should b-be asking you the same question."  
  
"I always skip," Spike scoffed.   
  
"Oh. Yeah. Well...Spike, can I, ah, talk to you about someone,  
er, something?" Willow asked hurriedly.  
  
"Shoot," Spike answered, his cigarette dangling between his  
index finger and thumb. He'd taken one puff out of it, and it was  
currently burning up.  
  
"What...well, what do you think of...of Buffy's boyfriend?" she  
asked cautiously.  
  
"He's a prancing, magnificient fluff ball of a liar with a bad  
hairdo," he replied easily. He took another drag off of his cigarette  
and dropped it to the ground, smashing it with the toe of his boot.  
  
Willow nodded and let out a sigh of relief. "So do I. That's  
what I think of him I mean. I get major bad vibes from this guy. Do  
you have the scoop on him?"  
  
Spike always had the scoop on the criminals and night life of  
Sunnydale, so why should now be any different? "No," he confessed.  
Willow's face fell.  
  
"But you always know what's going on..." she trailed off.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "Thanks. Not this time though, but   
I'm looking into it. I can tell you what I think though. And how  
I met him."  
  
Willow nodded, "Do tell."  
  
"I think Liam's into some heavy lawbreaking. Despite his 'angel'  
visage, that man's a demon. He's a drug lord or a hitman. Might be  
into jewelry, bankrobbing, the likes of that. We aren't talking your  
run-of-the-mill purse snatcher. He's a froofy liar. The bastard's  
pretending to love her," he paused for breath. "It's bizarre. I was  
out last night doing my territory check and here comes Little Boy   
Hairgel walking down the road. A might suspicious if you ask me. All  
in black, he was."  
  
"What about when you met him?" Willow inquired.  
  
"He asked me a whole bunch of questions about m'self. My name's  
the only true thing I spoke," Spike sat down against the wall again.   
  
Willow glanced at the dirt and said, "Smart."  
  
"Yeah," Spike yanked off his duster, rose a moment, and laid it  
horizontally so Willow could sit with him. He did it unconciously,  
and continued, "So anyways, this man, Liam, took me under wing. I   
was about to make a visit to a house I dreaded to see, but he had  
rescued me. He had a private jet and all that jazz." He sighed. "At  
the time I didn't think much of it, just that he was rich. Now I've  
known him for just a little over a year and I can see part of his   
bigger plan."  
  
Willow frowned and took a seat next to Spike. "You think the  
jet...?"  
  
"Oh yeah," Spike nodded. "Stolen. Along with it's radar  
resistant equipment. Funny thing, I noticed there wasn't a black box.  
Kept it to m'self. Guess that shoulda been my first clue this guy  
wasn't all he seemed. Secondly, there were four people reported   
brutally murdered in London that week. FOUR bloody people. In that  
week alone!"  
  
He rose. Willow watched him pace. "What's your part in all of  
this?"  
  
"I'm hoping I was just some dumb amateur about to be arrested  
that Liam decided to adopt. Like some twisted animal shelter or   
criminal refuge," Spike admitted. "I don't want to get mixed up with  
him any more than I already am."  
  
"Buffy and the rest of us were supposed to go to The Bronze   
tonight, but supposedly it's closed," Willow shrugged. "That's what  
he told Buffy. If it's true, maybe we can investigate."  
  
"The Bronze is open tonight," Spike protested. "You don't  
suppose..."  
  
Willow's eyes went wide with revelation. "It's...possible..."  
  
"Something's going down tonight," Spike frowned.  
  
"And Liam is involved," Willow finished.  
  
***  
Xander glanced at Willow's empty seat. It was quite unlike her to   
skip or miss any class, even study hall, when she was healthy. Even  
when she was ill she still came to school. It wasn't Willow's free  
period, obviously, but it still shook him to think that Willow, his  
best friend, would skip. He sighed and glanced out of the window,  
nearly bored out of his mind. A red mop and a peroxide blond head  
passed by and Xander frowned, coughing and getting up out of his  
seat. Everyone watched him go, but none said a word or tried to  
stop him. He gathered his belongings before he left.  
  
Xander ran down the hallway and out the door. He saw that  
Spike and Willow were walking together, and Willow was even laughing  
at some witty remark he had said. "Will!" Xander called.  
  
"Christ, it's monkeyboy," Spike murmured. "Shall we keep   
going?" He offered her his arm.  
  
"I-I dunno," Willow accepted his arm. "Maybe we should, I  
dunno, wait for him? Or tell him where we're going?"  
  
"I don't want him walkin' with us," Spike growled. "The   
whelp just picks on me anyway."  
  
Willow laughed and shook her head sadly. "Sunnydale's biggest  
bad boy cut down by a self-depracating nice guy." She looked over  
her shoulder and said to Xander, "Library."  
  
Xander nodded, but his blood was boiling. A boy whose head  
held more bleach than brain cells had taken claim on Willow. Who  
next, Buffy? He'd already sunk his delinquint little claws into  
Joyce and now Willow. It was enough to make him sick. Xander  
headed back into the school. He wanted to beat Willow and Spike  
there. Or...or did they mean the city library? 'Better ask,'  
he thought, and ran back outside. "Bleach boy! Will!"  
  
They stopped. Willow looked at him. "Yeah, Xander?"  
  
"Public library, right?" Xander asked.   
  
"No, the L.A. library," Spike retorted. "Of course the  
public library."  
  
"Of course," Xander echoed. He hurried to his car and started   
up the engine. He sped to the library, but Spike and Willow had   
beaten him there. He cursed under his breath as he locked the car   
and went up the library steps. He pushed open the heavy oak doors.   
He often came here with Willow.  
  
"Hi Xander," the librarian greeted him.  
  
"Hi," he replied. "Did Willow come in here with a guy  
with bleached hair?"  
  
"Yes actually," the librarian answered. "I've never seen that  
boy. What's his name?"  
  
"Spike," Xander sighed. "Where'd they go?"  
  
"Upstairs and to the right," the librarian said.   
  
"Thanks," Xander took off. Spike was carrying a load of books  
and Willow sat down with newspaper scrolls when he saw them. "What  
the..." he muttered, joining them. "What's up, guys?"  
  
Xamder looked at the titles of the books. "'Serial Killers of  
1997', 'Serial Killers of 1998', 'Serial Killers of 1999 and 2000',  
'Criminal Records, Sunnydale, 1990 - 2000, L - McK'?! What the hell  
is going on?!"  
  
Willow and Spike traded looks. Willow said, "Spike, get me that   
box of scrolls, please?"  
  
Spike nodded and handed it to her, flipping open one of the   
books.  
  
"Hello?!" Xander cried. "What the hell is all this?!"  
  
Spike shushed him. He grabbed a few more books on recorded   
jewelry thieves and drug lords, crime in Ireland, England, and   
California. "We're looking for something."  
  
"Oh, really," Xander replied dryly.   
  
"Look for any of these names," Spike handed Willow a list.  
  
"Angel, L. McDowe, Liam Mc., Liam Mick?" Willow read.  
  
"I saw Liam Mick or Liam Mc. on the jet," Spike explained.  
  
"You guys think Liam is...? Oh no," Xander shook his head.   
"That's crazy. And paranoid."  
  
"Since when did you become best mates with him?" Spike asked.  
He shoved a book at Xander. "Help us or beat it."  
  
Xander shook his head and opened the book. "So who do I look  
for?"  
  
***  
They stayed until the library was closed. Spike, Willow, and Xander  
all checked out books they hadn't been through yet. Willow had made  
copies of articles she'd written down with any mention of murder,  
drugs, jewelry, or bank robberies or any heavy stuff she could find.  
They vowed to meet again after school at the library, Spike would  
already be there after his minimal three classes. He could really  
care less if he graduated. He'd dropped out in England, and would  
be damned if say through another four years of this bland, boring  
drivel.  
  
While Spike was driving Willow home, he suddenly remembered  
The Bronze. "Will, call your mum," he handed her his cell phone.  
"Tell her you won't be home for awhile," he veered the car the   
opposite direction of Willow's house. "Tell her you're gonna party  
at The Bronze with a friend."  
  
Willow stared at him blankly for a moment. Slowly, realization  
dawned on her face. "Oh. Ooooh. I see." She quickly dialed her  
phone numbers (Spike watched her out of the corner of his eye,   
memorizing her phone number as she dialed it -- it might come in  
handy later) and explained to her mother that she'd be out for awhile  
and didn't know when she'd be back -- yes, she did her homework --  
this was a friend's cell phone -- yes, it was a safe place -- she hung  
up the phone. "My mother worries too much."  
  
Spike chuckled. Willow liked his laugh. It sounded...like   
something precious and sweet and rare, and you could drink it forever.  
It made her happy to be one of the people that made him laugh. Maybe  
she should make an effort to find out more about him...she could bet  
that nobody in Sunnydale except Joyce had done that in the year he'd  
been here. "So, ah, Spike," Willow said, trying to be amiable.   
"What's your real name?"  
  
"William," he replied, simply.  
  
"What's your middle name?" she asked, trying not to come off as  
nosy.  
  
Spike gave her a questioning look, then said, "Jeremy."  
  
"Oh. Mine is--" Willow began.  
  
"Alexandria. Which is why you and Xander became friends in the  
first place. Your names were similar," Spike finished.  
  
"Well...yeah," Willow sighed and looked out the window.  
  
Spike cast her a concerned look. "I didn't hurt your feelings,  
did I?"  
  
She shook her head. "Just surprised me." They pulled into The  
Bronze's parking lot. Spike parked the car and exited it. Willow was  
about to open her door when it opened for her. She blinked up at a  
smiling Spike and got out. "Thanks," she told him meekly.  
  
"No problem, luv," Spike replied. "After all, you ARE my date  
tonight."  
  
Willow's heart pounded against her ribcage. Date. This was a  
date! Sure, she'd gone out with Xander to a few dances before, but...  
This was SPIKE! The heart-throb of Sunnydale High. He was mysterious,  
dangerous, and sweet to every girl he came across, the only exception  
being Buffy. But that was simply because he lived with her. To   
every other girl he was the gentlest gentleman: holding open doors,  
paying for a girl in front of his lunch if he happened to be at   
school then, laying his jacket on the ground if he stuck around for  
gym class. If a boy was being mean to a girl or bullying her (which  
happened to Willow way too often), he would tell the kid to go do   
something that involved his hand as a second party. And Spike's  
accent...  
  
So Willow took Spike's hand and accepted his arm for the second  
time that day and headed towards The Bronze.  
  
"Hi Spike," sighed one girl as they walked. Spike nodded and  
smiled at her, paying for Willow's and his cover charges as they   
entered the club. "Spike, hi!" called another girl. Spike waved   
and smiled.  
  
"Bloody airheads, all of them," he muttered to Willow. She  
laughed--er, giggled. Spike frowned. Then she began to cough,   
earning a worried Spike, who bought her a glass of water. "Red, you  
all right?"  
  
Willow nodded and sipped at her water.  
  
"Hey," Spike said to the bartender, taking off his jacket and  
handing it to him. "Hold this, will you? It's bloody hot in here.  
Also, you seen a guy about...ye high, brown eyes, brown hair...mighta  
been called Angel or Liam or the likes of that?"  
  
The bartender glanced around and motioned Spike closer. "Saw  
the guy you're lookin' for. Name's Angelus, right?"  
  
"That's the sod," Spike nodded, grinning.  
  
"He's in hte back room with the couple in front of it. Try the  
back door or the window," the bartender handed Spike his duster back.  
  
"Thanks, mate," he slipped the man a ten dollar bill. "C'mon,  
Red."  
  
He grabbed Willow's hand and led her to the back door outside.  
  
***  
Buffy had forgotten that The Bronze was "closed" and went anyway.   
Parking was full in the front of the club, so she'd had to park in  
the back. As she got closer, she decided to skip the cover charge  
by going in the back way. The throbbing pulse of dance music   
pounded her ears even before she reached the club. Suddenly, she  
saw two figures jerk around about ten feet ahead. A white blob and  
a red blob moved along with the figures. She knew the white was  
probably Spike, after all, who in their right mind dyed their hair  
THAT color? The red sparked Buffy's imagination--probably some  
chick Spike picked up on the way into the club. Something fizzed  
through Buffy's veins and pulsed in time with base and the sound of  
her high heels on the pavement.  
  
All Buffy saw was red hair before she whipped the girl around.  
"Hey--Wills?" Buffy frowned.  
  
"Okay Red," Spike motioned to Willow, not noticing Buffy had  
the other girl occupied. He was peering through a basement/back room  
window. "He's in there."  
  
"Buffy!" Willow looked shocked. "Spike, it's Buffy."  
  
"What? How can you--" he looked over at Willow. "Bloody hell.  
What're you DOING, Princess?"  
  
"I think that's what I should be asking you, Detective   
Watson," Buffy replied, releasing Willow and crouching by Spike.  
  
"It's Detective Sherlock Holmes, you stupid bint," Spike   
muttered. "And Doctor Watson."  
  
"And you would know this, how?" Buffy replied sweetly. "I mean,  
you're never in lit..."  
  
"I've read it," Spike stuck his tongue out and motioned Willow  
closer.  
  
Buffy's frowned again. "That's...what's..."  
  
A large diamond traded hands inside. A woman in a long black  
dress handed Liam the diamond in a black cloth.  
  
"Meet Angelus, luv," Spike told her softly.  
  
"That's not Angel..." Buffy's voice was muffled by her hand.  
  
Willow patted her best friend's back. "It is, Buffy..."  
  
"It's not!" Buffy protested loudly, tears streaming down her  
cheeks.   
  
Spike immediately went into comfort mode. He took her into  
his arms, much to Willow's dismay, and stroked her hair, whispering  
soft and comforting words to Buffy. Buffy sobbed into his shirt as  
he rocked her back and forth. "Shhhh," he murmured. "You're all  
right, luv. I'm here. I'm here, princess," that was the first time  
Willow'd heard him use the term "princess" endearingly with Buffy.  
"I'm not going anywhere as long as you need me."  
  
Buffy roughly shoved him away and wiped her arm across her  
eyes. "Thanks," she muttered quietly. "But I'm all right."  
  
Spike nodded. "Shall we go do some underage drinking or  
call the law enforcers?"  
  
When they looked back in the room, Liam and the woman were  
gone. 


	2. 2/Party All Night Long

TITLE: Buffy the High School Student  
  
PART: Two  
  
AUTHOR: Arashi  
  
RATED: PG  
  
SUMMARY: AU. Everyone's human.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon owns all except this fic. I'm only borrowing  
the characters and settings and etc.  
  
DEDICATION: To Kayla and Mae, my betas; Sun-chan, who's always been  
supportive of me; MysLii, 'cause...well, she's just cool :P. And to  
Jason, who would've made a better Dawn than Michelle Trachtenburg.  
Also! To Kaylin, Jade, Angelus, and Spike's Babytalk for encouraging me  
to continue!  
  
FEEDBACK: Please?  
  
NOTES: For those who watch SNL, you'll recognize at least one of   
the last names. My apologies to Kevin Nealon and Gilda Radner. ^^  
My apologies to Alyson Hannigan as well.  
  
~* Buffy the High School Student *~  
  
Spike, Willow, and Buffy had all had a few drinks. Spike and Buffy  
were absolutely hammered, and Willow was a bit tipsy. At the moment,  
Spike and Buffy were cutting lose to 100% Pure Love by Crystal   
Waters. The rhythm came alive through all the sweaty bodies packed  
onto the dance floor. Buffy and Spike were moving as if they were  
one entity, and it made Willow jealous. 'It's just pity,' she   
reasoned with herself. 'Spike feels sorry for her.'  
  
The woman from the back room, or so it seemed to Willow,  
approached the table. "Hello," she purred.  
  
"H-hi," Willow answered, hiccoughing.  
  
"Were you with that pretty blond boy and the blond girl?" she  
asked. The woman had black hair, and her eyes seemed to match it.  
She was thin, almost a little too thin, and the dress hugged her.  
  
Willow nodded. "Who're you?"  
  
"Call me Dru," the woman smiled.  
  
"Okay, Dru," Willow hiccoughed again. The song changed, this  
one was sultry but decently paced. (AN: Think 'Crush' and the music  
playing in the background when Spike and Dru are there.)  
  
Dru slid out onto the dance floor, reminding Willow of a snake,  
and over to Buffy and Spike. She slipped in between the two. Spike  
gazed at her for a moment, then waved Buffy off. Buffy pouted and  
ran as best she could over to Willow. Immediately, Spike and Dru  
began to rock their bodies in unison to the beat. Dru ran her hand  
through Spike's hair and latched her hands behind his neck, eyes  
never leaving his. Spike wrapped his arms around her waist. He didn't  
know Dru's name, but he felt as if he'd known her for more than a   
century.   
  
"Drusilla," Spike hissed, lowering his mouth on his neck and  
kissing it.  
  
Drusilla grinned, black lips revealing pearly white teeth. She  
didn't question how he knew her name, for she knew his as well.   
"William..."  
  
***  
Around two in the morning, Spike and Dru were still dancing--er, more  
like half-dancing half-making out. Willow watched them jealously, and  
Buffy was asleep on the vinyl red seat next to her. She snored lightly.  
Willow didn't have her car, but she supposed if she woke up Buffy and  
asked for the keys she could drive herself home and have Buffy drive  
herself home, despite the headache she'd probably have. Willow shook  
her head.  
  
She scooted out of the booth-like table and ordered a glass of  
water from the bar. She carried it back to the table and woke Buffy  
up.  
  
"Unnnhh..." Buffy groaned. She opened her eyes and looked   
blearily up at Willow. "Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!" she clutched  
at her head and allowed Willow to prop her up into a sitting position.  
She groped at the glass of water, currently seeing double. Willow  
helped her sip at the water. "Owwwwww..."  
  
"Buffy?" Willow asked, putting an arm around her best friend  
and helping her drink the water.  
  
"Wha--owwww--at?" Buffy replied.  
  
"Give me your keys," Willow said gently.  
  
Buffy did as ordered, wincing. "Why?"  
  
Willow tossed her head towards Spike and Dru. "My ride won't  
be taking me home. So I'll drive you home and walk--"  
  
"Don't be silly," Buffy shut her eyes until she felt all right  
to speak again. "Drive yourself home and I'll drive myself home."  
  
"Okay," Willow agreed. She helped Buffy out of The Bronze,  
casting one last look at Spike and Dru. She shook her head, then  
beat down her feelings and shoved them into a little corner of her  
mind. She just felt attracted to Spike, that was all. In her   
moment of weakness she had discovered Spike was an attractive guy.  
"Where'd you park?"  
  
"In the," Buffy paused, "in the back."  
  
Willow nodded. "All right then," they slowly made it to   
Buffy's car. Willow knew she'd be in trouble when she got home,  
it was almost 2:45 a.m. now, but she'd go home anyway. She'd get  
in much more trouble if she didn't come home until after the   
library closed. Plus, she had much to think about, her not-feelings  
for Spike, the unveiling of Angelus...she was now almost certain that  
Dru was the woman with Angelus.   
  
By the time she got back to her house, Willow was almost falling  
asleep at the wheel. Buffy had fallen back asleep. Willow shook her  
gently, and the girl opened her eyes. "Hi Wills..."  
  
"Hi Buffy," Willow smiled. She motioned to her house. "I'm  
home. I'll sit with you until you're awake enough to drive back."  
  
"Mmmkay..." Buffy yawned and tried to stretch, almost smacking  
Willow in the face. After a few moments, Buffy said, "I'm ready. I  
can drive."  
  
"All right," Willow got out and started up to her front door.  
Buffy was in the driver seat now. "Take care, Buffy!"  
  
"You too Wills," Buffy called back, yawning. Then she left.  
  
***  
About five hours later, Buffy, Willow, and Xander sat in their first  
period classes. Xander had Trig with Willow, and Buffy was in   
science. Spike should've been there, but...he wasn't. Buffy knew   
that Spike never came home earlier in the morning, and Joyce was  
worried about him. Buffy could actually care less. Screw what  
she had thought yesterday about him! He was skipping class to...do  
something with Drusilla, no doubt. And she had a good idea what they  
were doing, and it made her sick to think that Spike, the very man who  
had comforted her the night before, the very man who had gotten piss  
drunk with her earlier in the morning, was skipping class to sleep   
with some whore he'd picked up in The Bronze.  
  
"Miss Summers?" the teacher rapped his hand on his desk. His  
toupe slipped a little.  
  
Buffy blinked rapidly and restrained herself from blurting out  
a "huh?". Instead, she replied with, "Yes sir?"  
  
"Would you mind telling us what's so entertaining that you had  
to not pay attention to what is going to be on your midterm?" he asked.  
The man had beady little eyes the color of burnt pine and smelled of  
cigars and spoiled fruit. Not to mention he smelled like a wet dog  
sometimes and badly needed a Tic-Tac more often than not. He was   
almost completely bald except for a thin ring of hair that wrapped  
around the back of his head and was nearly pitch black. His toupe  
was brown.  
  
"Yes sir, I would mind," Buffy answered.  
  
"You're being pert," the man informed her.  
  
"I know," Buffy told him offhandedly.  
  
The man's left eye twitched, along with most of that side of  
his face. "Then maybe you'll pay a visit to the assistant principal's  
office."  
  
"I wouldn't mind THAT, sir," Buffy smiled. "Mrs. Radner and I  
are on very good terms. She gives me candy."  
  
The class bubbled with chuckles and giggles. The man's face was  
turning the color of a plum. "How would you like to take a pink piece  
of paper to Mrs. Radner?"  
  
"Mrs. Radner doesn't like pink," Buffy told him. "She likes blue  
better."  
  
The class erupted into raucous laughter.  
  
"QUIET!" screamed the man. The class stopped abruptly. Nothing  
was heard but a pair of high heeled feet and a pair of sandals making  
their way down the hall. The clicking stopped, and Mrs. Radner's face  
appeared in the tiny pane that passed for a window in the door. The man  
glanced at Mrs. Radner and paled, his face losing its grape-like quality.  
He shuffled over to the door and yanked it open, "Mrs. Radner, what a  
pleasant surprise."  
  
Buffy waved at Mrs. Radner, who was an old friend of Joyce's, and  
she waved back. Behind Mrs. Radner stood a girl her age with black  
hair and a tan, obviously from the south.   
  
"Mr. Nealon, you have a new student," Mrs. Radner said. Then to  
the girl behind her, "It's all right Cordelia, go on in."  
  
Cordelia walked into the classroom with all the grace of a   
banana. She slipped and fell onto the linoleum. The class simmered  
with chuckles and giggles once more. Cordelia turned the color of a  
strawberry and scrambled up, clutching her books to her chest as she  
looked at Mr. Nealon. "Mr. Nealon...I-I'm Cordelia Chase..."  
  
"Welcome to my class, Cordelia," Mr. Nealon said as pleasantly  
as he could at the moment. Mrs. Radner nodded approvingly and left.  
Mr. Nealon turned to look around in the classroom until he found an  
empty seat. Aside from Spike's seat, who sat next to Buffy for the  
mere reason that Mr. Nealon hated her and knew Buffy hated Spike,  
there was an empty seat in front of Spike's. "Why don't you take the  
seat in front of Buffy's partner's?"  
  
Cordelia's eyes roved over the class, taking in the sight, and  
her eyes finally fell on Buffy. Buffy smiled and motioned to the seat  
in front of Spike's. Cordelia's eyes filled with gratitude as she made  
her way over with relatively little trouble and slipped into the seat.  
"God," Cordelia muttered. "Way to go, Cordy. Now everyone thinks you're  
a dork. Not that they wouldn't've found out later but what the hell."  
  
Buffy giggled. "I'm Buffy Summers."  
  
"Cordelia Chase," Cordy replied tiredly. "I'm from Los Angeles."  
  
"Welcome to Sunnydale," and Buffy gathered her books. The bell  
chimed and she grinned, getting up and going over to Cordy. "What class  
do you have next?"  
  
"Um...history I think," Cordy said, fumbling in her pocket for her  
schedule and dropping her books on their way out.   
  
Buffy shook her head and helped Cordy pick up the books, "I have  
history next too. With Ms. H."  
  
Cordy handed Buffy her schedule, juggling her books. "I think I  
have her too..."  
  
"You do," Buffy smiled. "And then you have Trig with me after-  
wards and P.E. with Will and Xander."  
  
Cordelia arched an eyebrow. "Will and Xander?"  
  
"My best friends," Buffy led Cordy to Ms. H's class. "They're  
in this class with us." Willow and Xander waved to her from inside the  
class. Buffy waved back and dragged Cordy in to them. "Guys, this is  
Cordelia...Chase, was it?" Cordy nodded. "Cordelia Chase. This is   
Willow Rosenberg, and Xander Harris."  
  
"Hey...where's Spike?" Willow frowned. "He's always in   
history. He loves to make fun of Ms. H."  
  
"He never came home last night," Buffy replied, taking a seat on  
the chair of the desk Xander was perched upon.   
  
"What?!" Willow demanded, unbelieving. She sat on the desk next  
to the one Xander and Buffy occupied. "You can't be serious...!"  
  
"I am," Buffy yawned. Cordy stood awkwardly around them,   
watching Xander.  
  
"What'd you say your name was?" Cordy asked.  
  
"I didn't," Xander smiled. "I'm Xander Harris."  
  
"Cordelia Chase," she attempted to shake Xander's hand, in the  
process dropping all her books, yet again. Their classmates and Ms. H  
all turned to look, causing Cordy to turn strawberry red again.   
With shaking hands, she grabbed at her books and papers but seemed to  
drop more than she retrieved. Xander kneeled down and helped her pick  
up the books and set them on the desk next to his, which happened to  
be empty.   
  
"You can sit here, Ms. H won't mind if I seat you," Xander   
explained.  
  
"Th-thanks," Cordy replied, raking her hands through her hair.  
"First days are so stressful..."  
  
"I know how you feel," Xander patted her back and Cordy looked  
up at him.  
  
"Xander's from Tahoe," Buffy explained. "He moved here in   
sixth grade."  
  
"Oh," Cordy said, taking her seat. Everyone filed into the  
room and sat, Buffy went to her desk by the window with a backward  
glance at Spike's desk, and Willow went to her seat by the door in  
the front row.   
  
Ms. H's real name was Ms. Hannigan, and she had long curly  
blond hair. Her eyes were so brown they were almost black, and she  
was tall and busty. She also kept a layer of flubber for insolation.  
She taught history with a passion and sometimes went off on tangents,  
but that was all right because everyone loved her class...except for  
Spike. But then, Spike never liked any class.  
  
"Ms. H!" a girl named Tara raised her hand. Tara was one of  
Willow's friends, and was a lesbian. There was speculation that Tara  
was in love with Willow. "Ms. H! Ms. H! We have a new student!"  
  
"We do?" Ms. H looked up from her roll call. Her eyes landed  
on Cordelia and she smiled. "Hello there, miss. Mrs. Radner didn't  
tell me we were getting a new student today..."  
  
"She came in Mr. Nealon's class," offered Buffy.  
  
"Oh I see," Ms. Hannigan's smile widened. "Well, why don't you  
come up here and introduce yourself?"  
  
Cordelia's eyes went wide and she looked at Xander, who gave her  
an encouraging look and nodded, whispering something to her. Cordy  
sighed and got up slowly, carefully. She made her way up to the front  
cautiously. "Okay..."  
  
"I'm Ms. Allison Hannigan," she shook Cordy's hand. "Welcome  
to my history class."  
  
Cordy gave a small smile.   
  
"What's your name, dear?" Ms. Hannigan asked.  
  
"Cordelia," she replied. "Cordelia Chase."  
  
Ms. Hannigan smiled some more. "Where'd you move from?"  
  
"Los Angeles," Cordy said, her voice wavering. She had glanced  
out at everyone, failing to locate any of the people she knew except  
Xander. He gave her another encouraging smile. "M-my dad works for  
Compaq..."  
  
"How old are you?" Ms. H asked.  
  
"S-seventeen," Cordy answered, looking at the ground.  
  
"When's your birthday?" Ms. H pressed.  
  
"April 10," Cordy whispered.  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you?" Ms. H leaned closer.  
  
"April 10," she blurted.  
  
The class was practically falling asleep. Crickets were   
recreating Beethoven's 7th Symphony. Ms. Hannigan noticed after a  
few moments, then told Cordy she could take her seat once more. Then  
she started on the lecture.  
  
"Oh god," Cordelia slid down in her seat, her cheeks flaming red. "I can't   
believe this...I'm such a dork."  
  
Xander shook his head and put a friendly arm across the back of her seat.  
His mouth twitched into a smile. "It's okay. First impressions are important,  
but everyone'll see you're just an adorable seventeen-year-old from LA."  
  
Cordelia leaned forward and buried her face in her arms. "Ugh."  
  
***  
After Ms. Hannigan's class, Xander, Willow, and Cordelia walked down to the  
gym. Xander, ever the popular one, had to stop every two or three feet and  
chat with one of his friends who'd stopped him. On the way, he showed  
Cordelia where her locker was, and then they finally arrived at the gym.  
Willow said bye to the pair and went to talk with Tara, who had trailed them  
wordlessly. Xander was then handed the task of introducing Cordelia to people  
and introducing her to the coach.  
  
"Jesse, hey!" Xander called to the brown-haired boy.  
  
"Xander!" he nodded to his friend in acknowledgement. "Who's the chick?"  
  
"This is Cordelia Chase," Xander said, walking over with to the group of  
boys Jesse was talking with. "Cordelia--"  
  
"C-Cordy," she corrected softly. "Please, call m-me Cordy."  
  
"Cordy," Xander nodded, smiling slightly, "this is another one of my best  
friends, Jesse. That's Scott, James, Tony, and Josh. Guys, Cordy. Cordy,  
guys."  
  
"Hey Cordy." "Hi Cordy." "Sup?" "Yo." greeted Cordelia.  
  
"Hi," she replied, edging halfway behind Xander.  
  
"She's a bit shy," Xander said, then looked over his shoulder at her   
affectionately. "Anyway, gotta go introduce her to Coach Miller. Be  
back later."  
  
He led Cordelia over to Coach Miller, who was an elderly, plump   
man with silver hair and a good sense of humor that just emanated  
friendliness. "Hey Coach," Xander grinned. "Got a new student for  
you."  
  
Coach Miller looked at Cordelia. "Hello, miss."  
  
"Coach, this is Cordelia Chase. She just moved here from Los   
Angeles," Xander gently put an arm around her shoulders to prevent  
her from hiding behind him again. "Cordy, this is Coach Miller. He's  
nice, you'll like him."  
  
Cordelia attempted a smile but failed at it. Xander just patted her  
back. "Maybe she could sit out today and just watch everyone, Coach."  
  
"Perhaps," Coach Miller said contemplatively. "Harris, you sit out with  
her too. Explain to her what's up."  
  
Xander nodded and led Cordy over to one of the benches lining the   
gymnasium. Coach Miller blew his whistle and yelled for everyone to  
line up for roll call. "Aaron! Berger! Brendan! Carpenter! Chase!"  
Coach Miller paused. "Chase? Who's Chase?"  
  
"Over here, Coach," Xander called, motioning to Cordelia.  
  
Coach Miller nodded and went through the rest of the roll call. Then  
they started class.  
  
***  
Xander was telling Cordelia a humorous story about one winter in  
Lake Tahoe where he and his friends built a snowman of the   
principle of their school and about the consequences. Cordelia  
laughed lightly, comfortable with Xander. Apparently, he was one  
of the more popular students attending Sunnydale High, and Cordelia  
couldn't blame everyone for liking him. He was just so...cool.  
  
"Xander," Cordelia said, once she'd stopped laughing. "Do you have  
a girlfriend?"  
  
Xander shook his head. "Nope. Don't want one, really, all the girls  
here are bitches or are like parking spaces--all the good ones are  
taken. And even some of the rotten apples."  
  
"I see," Cordelia replied. "I'm...sorry?"  
  
"Don't be. And really, I'd like to have girls be my friends, not in  
the touchy-feely way either. I mean, most of the good girls here  
are my friends, and when we break up--the inevitable, I'm telling  
you, it's gonna ruin our friendship. And I mean, I don't want that,  
you know? And I speak from experience," Xander told her, gesturing  
with his hands. "I mean, I used to take Willow to the dances in   
eighth grade, and I strung her along on accident. And I dated Harmony,"  
he pointed out the blond girl who just tripped and fell on her nose,  
"real trier of the patience there. But she and I used to be pretty good  
friends, and when I broke up with her last year she toilet papered my  
house and put rotten eggs in my locker. Now we don't even speak to  
each other."  
  
"I'm sorry," Cordelia frowned. "That's awful."  
  
"Yeah. But no great loss, actually. She was annoying," Xander stood  
and stretched, looking at the clock on the gym wall. "Bell should be  
ringing in a few. Want me to get your stuff?"  
  
"No, I got it," Cordelia smiled. "Thank you though."  
  
Cordelia got her belongings and sat back down as Xander did the same.  
The bell rang, and Xander walked Cordelia to her next class. "See ya,"  
he said, giving her a quick hug and hurrying off to his next class.  
  
Xander and Cordelia had the last class of the day together, and Xander  
was the only one Cordelia knew in there, aside from Scott whom she'd  
met in gym. By the end of class, Xander and Cordelia had exchanged  
phone numbers.  
  
***  
Buffy sat in Spike's room, his stereo blasting next to her. "How can he  
listen to this crap?" Buffy muttered, turning the volume down and   
turning her focus back to her homework. She figured Spike would be  
coming in any second now--it was almost eleven p.m.--unless he'd been  
arrested. Which Buffy hoped. But much to her dismay, she heard leaves  
rustling outside his window and heard him grunt and curse. She shook her  
head, reaching over and flipping the stereo and the lights off just before  
Spike reached the window. The glass slid open and Buffy turned on the  
lights.  
  
Spike yelped and nearly fell out of the window. "Bloody hell, you stupid  
bint! What the bleedin' hell are you tryin' to do, kill me?"  
  
"Nice idea, but unfortunately no," Buffy set her homework in her chair as  
she stood up. "I want to know where you've been since Willow and I left  
you at the Bronze last night."  
  
"None of your bloody business, Princess," Spike said 'princess' sneeringly  
as he slid the window closed.  
  
"I think it is, William," Buffy nodded. "Mom's been worried sick."  
  
"Sorry 'bout your mum," Spike shrugged. "Now get the hell out of my room."  
  
"No."  
  
"Get. Out. Or else."  
  
"Or else what? You're gonna make me?"  
  
"Summat like that."  
  
"...What did you say? Did you just say 'summat'?"  
  
"Bloody bitch. Get outta my room, twerp."  
  
"Make you feel manly to call me names?"  
  
"Look, Buffy, I'm gonna tell you one more time. Then I'm going to tie you up   
and carry you to soddin' room myself if you don't leave. Get out."  
  
"Five questions, then I'll leave, I swear."  
  
"Two."  
  
"Four."  
  
"Three."  
  
"Deal."  
  
"Okay, shoot. Hurry it up, I'm tired."  
  
"Where'd you go after Will and I left?"  
  
"With Dru."  
  
"Who's Dru?"  
  
"The ghost of Christmas past." He paused, then rolled his eyes. "The bird I was  
dancin' with at the Bronze when you two left."  
  
"Okay. Why were you gone all night and all day today?"  
  
"'Cause I felt like it. Bye now."  
  
Buffy narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. "You are *so* going to pay for this."  
  
"Pay for what?" Spike raised his eyebrow.  
  
"Being rude to me," Buffy turned and stormed out.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "Bugger her." He stripped down to his boxers and shimmied  
into bed.  
  
***  
Drusilla, the woman Spike had met at the Bronze and spent all night with, watched  
Liam--Angelus, in his business--pace. "What's wrong, Liam?"  
  
"You spent all *night* with *Spike*?" Liam demanded.  
  
"Yes," Drusilla replied demurely. "Is there a problem with that?"  
  
"*Yes*! He *lives* with Buffy! And you *know* I'm dating her! He's not stupid, he  
can put two and two together and get four, Dru," Liam sighed and sat down next to  
her, rubbing his forehead. The disorientation attacked him again and he took a   
deep breath, trying to calm the room down and stabilize it. "Don't get in too tight  
with him, Dru. If you do, he'll figure out you're connected with me and he knows  
what I'm about, I know he does."  
  
"My poor Liam," Drusilla's slender fingers stroked his hair and down his neck. "My  
poor, poor baby..."  
  
Liam looked at her and smiled, kissing her lightly. "You always know how to make  
it better, Dru."  
  
She grinned. "Let Mummy handle it."  
  
"I will. Believe me, I will. I trust you." 


	3. 3/Henry the Eighth I Am

Title: Buffy the High School Student  
  
Part: Three (Henry the Eighth I Am)  
  
Author: Arsahi  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Disclaimer: BtVS doesn't belong to me. However, I'm borrowing the   
characters and such, but I will put them back like a good little girl.  
Well, maybe not Spike...  
  
Summary: AU. Everyone's human.  
  
Dedication: Sun-chan, Jason, Kayla, Mae, MysLii, Kaylin, Jade, Angelus,  
Spike's Babytalk, and Kelley for encouraging me to continue! Oh, and  
Kelley--thanks for commenting on Fumbling Towards Ecstacy!  
  
Feedback: Please! It makes me write more.  
  
Notes:  
  
~*~ Buffy the High School Student ~*~  
  
Spike chipperly offered to take Buffy to school that morning, after   
wittily explaining that he had had some pressing business to take care  
of yesterday. Joyce had accepted the answer, and had asked him what  
had happened, and he said it was familial business. Joyce stopped   
questioning him after that.  
  
"You are *such* a liar," Buffy scoffed, accepting the offered ride to  
school.  
  
"'Bout what, love?" he asked, rolling down the window slightly and  
sparking a cigarette.  
  
Buffy snatched the cancer stick from his hands and stubbed it out in the  
ash tray. "You lied to my mother about what went on last night."  
  
"What, did you expect me to tell your mum that I spent last night with  
the woman of my dreams in a sleazy motel? How much d'you think your  
mum would like that?" Spike replied, pulling another cigarette from the  
pack and glaring at her. She reached up to grab it away and he said,  
"Move your hand anymore and I'll bloody bite it off, Princess."  
  
"Oooh I'm shaking my fashionable and expensive boots," Buffy retorted,  
grabbing the cigarette anyway and stubbing it out in the ash tray again.  
  
"You bloody bint," he growled. "Those things aren't cheap, you know!"  
  
"Then stop buying them. You'll be surprised how much more money you'll  
retain," Buffy answered crossly.  
  
Spike shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You are one crazy little  
psycho bint, you know that?"  
  
"What the hell does 'bint' mean anyway? And I'm not crazy, or little,   
or psycho, *William*," she glared.  
  
"C'mon, Queen B, can't you figure out what 'bint' means on your own?"   
he taunted. "Or is there anything in that cavernous head of yours   
'sides air?"  
  
"I hate you," Buffy said. "I really hate you."  
  
"Aw, I'm touched," he pulled into the school parking lot and drove   
around looking for a spot.  
  
"You're about to be punched if you don't shut up," Buffy told him,   
climbing out of the car the moment he parked. "Thanks for the ride,   
think I'll be hitching with Will though tonight, so don't wait up."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and called after her, "Wouldn't wait up for you   
anyway, you snotty bitch!"  
  
Buffy flipped him the bird and continued walking towards the school,   
not even looking back.  
  
"That girl..." Spike shook his head, locked his car, and followed her   
inside.  
  
***  
"Spike here today?" Willow asked Buffy.  
  
"Unfortunately," the blond replied sadly, walking with the redhead down   
the hallway towards her locker. "Why?"  
  
"Just wondering," Willow gave Buffy a smile, but her cheeks were tinged   
pink.  
  
Buffy frowned, "You okay, Wills?"  
  
"Yeah, fine," she nodded. "Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"You just...got all flushed when I said Spike was--ooooooooh no,"   
realization hit Buffy. "No. No! You *cannot* have a thing for   
that...that...thing!"  
  
"'Have a thing for that thing'? That may be the most intelligent   
phrase that's left your mouth all mornin'," Spike came up behind the   
girls and threw an arm around both of their shoulders. "Mornin' Red."  
  
"Morning Spike," she answered, smiling at him.  
  
"Hey, Billy Idol, mind leaving my friends alone?" Xander said,   
approaching the trio with Cordelia at his side.  
  
Spike respectfully took his arm from Buffy and Willow, but not before   
kissing each girl's cheek.   
  
"Ew! Gross! Don't do that again, Spike," Buffy glared.  
  
Willow just blushed and tried to hide it. Spike looked curiously at   
the shy Cordelia Chase and said, "Who's this lovely woman here to   
grace us with her presence?"  
  
Xander rolled his eyes and Cordy averted her eyes to the ground.   
"Cordy, this is William Walthrop. We call him Spike though 'cause   
he's about as smart as one."  
  
"Hey," Spike scoffed.  
  
"Peroxide Boy, this is Cordelia Chase," Xander told him.  
  
"Hi there," Spike grinned at her. Cordelida just smiled slightly at   
him and edged closer to Xander. Spike then whispered to Xander, "Think   
she fancies you, mate."  
  
"I'm not your mate," Xander told him. "And speak English, freak."  
  
"Your beau's not very nice, is 'e?" Spike asked Cordelia. Her eyes went  
wide and her cheeks flamed.  
  
"He's not my 'beau'," she protested quietly. "I just met him yesterday..."  
  
"But you fancy the bloke, don't you?" he inquired.  
  
"Spike leave her alone," Buffy smacked him on the arm.  
  
"C'mon Cordy," Xander said. "I don't want to be around Blondie anymore.   
See ya in Trig, Wills."  
  
"Bye," the group, sans Spike, chorused.  
  
***  
It was sixth period. And Spike was still at school. The student body   
was thrown to see him wandering the halls to his sixth period class,   
and Willow learned that he was in her sixth period class. She vaguely   
remembered him being there on the first day, but didn't really pay   
attention. At the time she had had the same distaste for him as the  
rest of her group did.  
  
But now she figured out why the seat next to her in English was always  
empty.  
  
"Fancy that," Spike said as he took the seat next to her. "Looks   
like we sit with each other, Red."  
  
Willow laughed lightly. "I don't have a problem with that."  
  
"And nor do I with you," Spike nodded. "Gotta question for you."  
  
"Yeah?" Willow asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Spike folded his hands on the desk and looked at her, "You busy   
tonight?"  
  
Willow's heart fluttered into her throat. She shook her head, not   
trusting her voice. Spike smiled, "Good. Pick you up around seven  
then?"  
  
She nodded. Meanwhile her heart was doing its own little happy dance  
and her stomach was doing flipflops. Spike had just asked her out on  
a date! If she was the fainting type, undoubtedly she'd be on the   
floor by now. "Wait a minute," she frowned. "What about that Dru   
woman you were with?"  
  
"Drusilla?" Spike replied. Willow nodded. "Fling, Red. Sorta. It's  
complicated, I'll explain tonight."  
  
"O-okay," Willow replied. She noticed the teacher had yet to enter   
the room. "Tara!" she called to the girl across the room.  
  
"Yeah?" Tara called back.  
  
"Where's Mrs. Robinson?" she asked.  
  
Tara shrugged. "Dunno. No one does!"  
  
"That's weird," Willow frowned.  
  
"D'you think summat happened to her?" he wondered aloud. "Never met  
the bloke, but..."  
  
"Maybe she had an emergency she needed to attend to," Jesse turned his  
chair around and leaned on Willow's desk. "You know, maybe her sister  
died or somethin'."  
  
"Maybe," Willow frowned some more. The principle then walked in.  
  
"Pardon me, class," the principle said. "But...it appears Mrs. Robinson  
won't be able to attend class today." The class stared at him. "She  
won't be attending class for the rest of the year." The class stared  
at him some more. "It appears Mrs. Robinson has...passed on..."  
  
"What?" cried the class incredulously.  
  
"What happened?!" Willow demanded.  
  
"She was...murdered. Found in the back of the parking lot," the   
principle sighed. "By a black 1959 DeSoto." The color drained  
from Spike's face. "Ms. Hannigan was found there as well."  
  
Willow's eyes went wide and she looked at Spike, who looked  
whiter than a sheet.   
  
"We're going to close down the school until we figure out who  
murdered the two," the principle continued. "You're all free  
to go home. But if that DeSoto belongs to anyone in here--that  
has to stay here."  
  
The class slowly got up and walked, subdued, out the door and  
out of the school. Willow walked with Spike. "Is something  
wrong?"  
  
"That's my car," he whispered. "Willow, you know I didn't do  
it though, right? I didn't even bloody go near Ms. H today, I  
behaved myself!"  
  
"I know Spike," Willow patted his arm. "I know you didn't do  
it. You had no reason too."  
  
"But...they're going to think I bloody knocked them off 'cause  
of my car and my past," Spike ran a hand through his hair and  
walked with Willow out of the school. "Dammit."  
  
"What?" Willow looked at him.  
  
"I have no bloody way to go back home. I drove the princess  
here this mornin'," he sighed.  
  
"Well I was supposed to go with Buffy to the library to study  
after school but...I could take you home," Willow smiled.  
  
"Would William Walthrop please come to the front office?"  
the intercom announced. "Would William Walthrop please  
come to the front office?"  
  
"Bloody *hell*," Spike groaned. "See ya 'round, Will. Maybe  
they'll give me my bloody car back."  
  
"Bye Spike," she waved and left to go find Buffy as he started  
towards the front office.  
  
Spike arrived at the front office, "William Walthrop. You  
blokes called me up here."  
  
The secretary looked at the police officers standing out of the  
way with Mrs. Radner. Spike muttered under his breath and  
approached them, reminding himself to be polite or it would  
get him in trouble. "Afternoon, officers, Mrs. Radner," he said.  
  
"William," Mrs. Radner smiled.  
  
"Mrs. Radner," Spike returned the smile. "You wanted to see me  
'bout something?"  
  
"William, you own a 1959 DeSoto, correct?" Mrs. Radner asked  
gently.  
  
"Yes," Spike nodded slowly, knowing he was digging himself a  
hole. "Why?"  
  
"Mr. Walthorp--" one of the officers started.  
  
"Walthrop, sir," Spike corrected.  
  
The officer nodded. "Mr. Walthrop, where were you between  
the hours of eleven a.m. and 12:30 p.m. today?"  
  
"In class, sir," Spike replied. Like they had any reason to believe  
him. They had it on record he never stayed much after lunch.  
  
"Which class?" the officer inquired.  
  
"English," Spike said, jamming his hands into his pockets   
casually. "I think. Yeah. English was the last class I was in.  
Before that I was at lunch."  
  
"Are you sure now, son?" the second officer asked.  
  
*Yes, you bloody bastard, I'm sure,* Spike growled inwardly.   
"Yes."  
  
"If we asked your classmates would they say the same thing?" the first  
officer wanted to know.  
  
"Yes," Spike ground out between clenched teeth. He never could  
tolerate law-enforcers. "Why wouldn't they?"  
  
"We have records that since school started you only attended one  
full day of school, Mr. Walthrop," the second officer informed him.  
"We have reason to believe you aren't telling us the truth."  
  
"Fine. I'm eighteen you know, I can do what I bloody want," he  
grumbled.  
  
"True, but that does *not* include murder, Mr. Walthrop," the  
first officer raised his eyebrow.  
  
"I didn't do it," Spike told them forcefully. "I came to school today  
and stayed all day. Check the attendance if you're so bloody   
paranoid."  
  
"We did. It shows you not attending anything after lunch," the   
second officer sighed.  
  
"Oh for the bloody Christ's sake!" Spike threw his arms up in the  
air. "I'm outta here. Until you can provide me with some bloody  
proof that I'm a suspect, besides my bloody car being near the  
damn bodies, don't bother me."  
  
He turned and started out. The officer grabbed him by the arm.  
"Mr. Walthrop, I believe this belongs to you." He held up a plastic  
bag containing the knife Spike carried out of habit. "We checked  
the finger prints already and they match yours. The blood on the  
knife matches those of the victims. You have the right to remain  
silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in the   
court of law. If you cannot provide a lawyer, one will be given to  
you."  
  
They snapped the cuffs over Spike's wrists. He closed his eyes and  
compliantly trudged out the front door, the three passing Willow's  
car.  
  
***  
"Oh my god," Willow's eyes went wide. "They arrested him!"  
  
Buffy looked up from filing her nails and watched the officers  
jostle Spike into the back of the squad car. "Wow. Finally busted  
him. Wonder what for."  
  
"I'll bet they think he murder Ms. H and Mrs. Robinson," Willow said  
despairingly. "He didn't do it though...I was with him almost all  
day. I mean, he even ate lunch near us, you know?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Let's just go to the library."  
  
"I think your mom deserves to know about this, Buffy," Willow   
frowned.  
  
Buffy sighed. "Fine. Let's go to my house then. We can study  
just as well there."  
  
So Willow drove them to Buffy's house. Buffy unlocked the  
door and let themselves in and walked over to the phone, dialing  
Joyce's number. She briefly told her that Spike had been arrested  
and to expect a call from him in a few.  
  
"Well, Mom's freaked now. Especially after Spike stayed out all  
night and went to school all day today," Buffy yawned. "I'm gonna  
call Angel. Be right back."  
  
Willow shook her head and hugged her knees to her chest on the  
couch. "He asked me out, you know."  
  
"What?" Buffy put the phone back on the cradle mid-ring. "Who?"  
  
"Spike," Willow sighed. "He asked me out in English."  
  
Buffy was having trouble processing this. "Spike...asked...*you*  
out?"  
  
"What? Is that such a...a...an unbelievable thing that someone  
would ask me out?" Willow asked.  
  
"No, not that," Buffy shook her head. She frowned. "Never  
that. It's just...Spike? And...please tell me you didn't accept.  
I *know* you have a thing for him but please tell me you didn't..."  
  
"I did," Willow looked up at the ceiling. "And now he's been  
arrested for something he didn't do."  
  
"How do you know he didn't do it? We didn't watch him the   
whole time," Buffy shrugged. "And look at what kind of person  
he is, Wills."  
  
"He wouldn't kill anybody," Willow glared, her eyes filling up  
with tears. "He wouldn't. He's really a nice guy, you're just such  
a bitch to him most of the time that he just snaps at you all the  
time!"  
  
"I'm not a bitch," Buffy replied, her eyes begining to well up as  
well. "And he's an asshole, Willow, he is! I live with him, he's  
just a suck up and a charmer! You know he spent all of yesterday  
out having sex with that bimbo he found at The Bronze?"  
  
"He was going to explain to me about that," Willow wiped at her  
eyes. "You just always automatically assume the worst of him,  
like, like he's some kind of...of...always-doing-the-worst-thing-  
imaginable guy!"  
  
Buffy just shook her head and wiped her eyes. "Well who would  
kill Ms. H and and Mrs. Robinson and put them by Spike's car?"  
  
"Why would he do it *by* his car? He's not stupid," Willow sniffed.  
  
"Whatever. I just don't trust him," Buffy shook her head. "Let's  
try to study, okay?"  
  
Willow nodded and reached for her backpack.  
  
***  
"Wonder who killed Ms. H," Xander wondered aloud, going down  
the sidewalk with Cordelia.  
  
"I don't know," Cordelia sighed. "I-I kinda liked her. I didn't know  
her that well, b-but I liked her."  
  
"Everyone liked her. Even Spike, but that dead-head would never  
admit it," Xander put his hands in his pockets and gave his skateboard  
another leisurely pump of his foot.  
  
"Are he and Buffy going out or something?" Cordelia asked of Xander.  
  
Xander stopped and burst out laughing. "No, no. That's funny,   
Cordy, but no...they hate each other. They live in the same house  
but it's only 'cause Joyce wanted it that way."  
  
"Who's Joyce?" Cordy asked.  
  
"Buffy's mom," Xander shrugged. "She likes The Peroxided Wonder  
for some reason."  
  
"He's...uh...charming," Cordelia replied, dropping her books on  
accident after tripping over a rock. Xander stopped his skateboard  
and picked up her books for her. "I...I can handle it Xander..."  
  
"No, you keep dropping your stuff. Let me hold it," Xander resumed  
his leisurely pace as Cordelia walked next to him.  
  
"If you must," Cordelia folded her arms over her chest.  
  
"I must," Xander gave her a decisive nod. "Wanna drop our stuff off  
at my house and go do something?"  
  
Cordelia blinked, "Uh...sure."  
  
Xander smiled, "C'mon. My house isn't that far away." He turned the   
corner and jumped onto the road from the curb.  
  
"Xander!" Cordelia cried.  
  
"What?" Xander asked. "I know what I'm doing, Cordy."  
  
Cordelia shook her head and hurried after him. They put their stuff  
in the basement, which had become Xander's domicile, and Xander  
led Cordelia downtown. "What'cha wanna do?"  
  
"I don't know," Cordy shrugged. "Wanna show me where the Bronze  
is?"  
  
"Sure," Xander replied, grabbing her hand. "Hop on."  
  
"What?" Cordelia looked at the skateboard. "I won't fit."  
  
"Sure you will," Xander stepped off and lifted her onto the skateboard.  
Then he stepped up in front of her and she wrapped her arms tightly  
around his waist as he sped off to the Bronze on his skateboard.  
  
***  
"I can't believe this," Spike lay with his legs vertically parallel to the  
wall and his torso horizontally parallel to the floor on the uncomfortable  
cot in the cell. "You can't do this!" he yelled. "The bloody knife isn't  
enough evidence! And the teacher couldn't take my attendance during  
lunch or after, 'cause she got bloody knocked off!"  
  
"Shut up in there," called the guard sitting by the phone.  
  
"I didn't kill *anyone*!" Spike yelled. He kicked the wall in boredom.  
Then he got an idea. "I'm Henry the Eighth I am, Henry the Eighth I  
am, I am!"   
***  
  
"This is the Bronze," Xander stepped off the skateboard with Cordy  
and tucked it under his arm. "Looks like they opened it early 'cause  
school got cancelled. Wanna go inside?"  
  
Cordelia shrugged and followed him inside, Xander paying for her  
cover charge. Music blared from the speakers, and the club was  
already packed. Xander left his skateboard with the bouncer and  
led Cordy over to the bar. "Two Diet Cokes," he ordered.  
  
He handed one to Cordy and drank down his, paying for both of the  
drinks. "So, wanna dance when you're done with that, Cordy?"  
  
Cordelia smiled and nodded, taking a gulp of Diet Coke and burping  
loudly. Xander just laughed and took her hand, leading her onto the  
dance floor.  
  
If Cordelia was usually a klutz when she walked, one would not know  
the one dancing with Xander to be the same Cordelia Chase. This one  
was graceful and balanced, and Xander found himself becoming more  
and more attracted to her. He'd started feeling it yesterday, getting to  
know her better, and even calling her the previous night, but now that  
he was talking with her more and dancing with her, he knew he had a  
crush. How could LA have let go of this girl?  
  
---  
Electricity, eye to eye  
Hey don't I know you?  
I can't speak...  
  
Strip my senses on the spot  
I've never been defenseless  
----  
  
Xander had never fallen for a girl this fast before. Maybe it was a   
bad thing to have developed feelings for her so fast, but...it felt so  
good. And it looked like she "fancied" him, like Spike had so blatantly  
pointed out that morning.  
  
---  
I can't even make sense of this  
You speak and I don't hear a word  
  
What would happen if we kissed?  
Would your tongue slip past my lips?  
Would you run away?  
---  
  
Cordelia's arms had somehow found their way around his neck, and   
his arms around her waist. She could not take her eyes away from  
his, and if she wasn't mistaken she at least saw lust in those eyes.  
She...ah...felt it too, but that's a different story.   
  
---  
Would you stay?  
Would I melt into you?  
Mouth to mouth  
Lust to lust  
Spontaneously combust  
---  
  
"I have a kind of personal question to ask you," Xander said, amazed  
his voice sounded so even.  
  
"Oh?" Cordelia replied.  
  
"Have you ever been kissed?"  
  
---  
The room is spinning, out of control  
You act like you didn't notice, you brushed my hand  
Forbidden fruit, ring on my finger  
You're such a moral, moral man  
Would you throw it away, no questions  
Will I pretend I'm innocent...  
---  
  
"No," Cordelia answered truthfully.  
  
"That's a shock," Xander's eyebrows went up into his hair. "Because I  
was thinking that such a beautiful," he brushed her hair out of her eyes,  
"intelligent," he trailed his fingers down her spine, making her shiver,  
"charming woman like yourself would have boys throwing themselves at  
you."  
  
Cordelia blushed. "I'm none of those things."  
  
"You are," Xander smiled and removed her arms from his neck, holding  
her hands. "And I can't tell you how much I wanna kiss you right now, so  
I'm just gonna...do it..." he lowered his mouth to hers in a searing,   
blinding kiss.  
  
***  
"I got married to the widow next door! She's been married seven times  
before! And everyone was a Henry! And she wouldn't have a Willy or a  
Sam! I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry! Henry the Eighth I am!" Spike  
sang at the top of his lungs, kicking the beat on the wall. Hell, if he was  
going to be penned up in here, he might as well make it a living hell for  
everyone else. "Third verse, same as the first! I'm Henry the Eighth I  
am, Henry the Eighth I am, I am, I got married to the widow next door!"  
  
The parole officer marched down to his cell and banged his night stick on  
the cell bars. "Shut up in there."  
  
"She's been married seven times before! And everyone was a Henry!  
And she wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam! I'm her eighth old man, I'm   
Henry!" Spike continued, unfazed.  
  
The guard threw his hands up in the air and stormed off.  
  
"Henry the Eighth I am!" 


	4. 4.1/Insubstantial Evidence

Part 4.1  
  
If you want the other information check the other three parts.  
  
~*~ Part 4.1/Insubstatial Evidence ~*~  
  
It had been three days since Spike was arrested, and the boy still sat in jail.  
Willow had visited him a few times, and Spike had smiled at her and told   
her he'd make it up to her for having to cop out on their date. Willow told  
him it was okay, but he insisted.  
  
"All right Henry, time for your arraignment," the officer slid open the bars  
holding him in. Willow stepped back from the cell as the officer snapped  
the handcuffs over Spike's wrists.  
  
"Henry?" Willow asked.  
  
Spike smirked and began yelling at the top of his lungs, "I'm the Henry the  
Eighth I am, Henry the Eighth I am I am!"  
  
The officer jostled him. "Quiet down, Henry."  
  
Spike's prisonmates waiting for their arraignments groaned and yelled at  
"Henry" to shut up and sit his ass down, or hurry up and get to his arraignment.  
Spike laughed haughtily and walked with the officer down the hallway,  
whistling his trademark song.  
  
Willow shook her head and hurried into the courthouse.  
***  
  
Buffy, Willow, Joyce, Xander, and Cordelia sat in the courthouse, along with  
Mrs. Robinson's husband and two sons, and Ms. Hannigan's boyfriend.  
Spike was released from the handcuffs and sat down next to his lawyer,  
yawning. The judge took her place up above everyone.  
  
"All rise for the Honorable Judge Forde," everyone stood and promptly sat.  
  
"This is the arraignment for one William Jeremy Walthrop on the charge  
of the battery and murder of Ms. Allison Hannigan and Mrs. Tiffany   
Robinson," said the mystery voice.  
  
Judge Forde looked at Spike, wearing his neon orange jumpsuit. "On  
what evidence to we press these charges?"  
  
The picture of the bodies next to the 1959 DeSoto and the knife with  
Spike's fingerprints and blood of the victims were shown to Judge Forde.  
The woman pursed her lips, "Hmm."  
  
Spike took a deep and breath and sighed. He knew there wasn't enough  
evidence to charge him with the murder and be found guilty, but there was  
enough there to hold him in custody. The courthouse doors opened, and  
in walked Liam followed by Drusilla. Spike's eyes lit up when he saw  
Dru and he smiled. She smiled back.  
  
"And you say the fingerprints on this glove matches those of William  
Walthrop's?" the judge inquired.  
  
The officer that had placed the evidence in front of her nodded. "Yes,  
Your Honor."  
  
"And simply because you found the bodies and the knife near Mr.   
Walthrop's automobile you're holding this man in custody?" Judge Forde  
raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Yes, Your Honor," the officer nodded.  
  
Judge Forde shook her head. "Who do you have working on your force  
these days?"  
  
"Sunnydale's finest," the officer answered.  
  
"I weep for the future," Judge Forde rolled her eyes and banged her gavel  
once on the pad on her surface area in front of her. "Does any of the  
Robinson family wish to press charges on this young man?" The room was  
silent. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."  
  
No one said a word.  
  
She banged her gavel again. "No charges are being pressed upon this   
young man. William Walthrop is to be released from police custody   
within the hour. Officer judgement overruled, insubstantial evidence."  
Judge Forde banged her gavel with an air of finality. "I don't want to  
see any of you for a long time." She rose and went into her chambers.  
  
Spike jumped up and ran over to Drusilla, enveloping her a bear hug and  
lifting her feet off the ground, spinning her around. Willow had been  
about to get up and run over to him, but slowly sank back in her seat,  
pouting. Spike kissed Dru, not even realizing Willow was in the same  
room. "Hey Dru, missed ya."  
  
"I missed you too, my William," she traced his jaw. "I leave you alone  
for a couple of days and you get charged with murder. However did  
it happen?"  
  
"Long story, pet. Don't really want to go in it, you know," he released  
the tall, dark-haired woman. "What've *you* been up too since we  
last saw each other?"  
  
"Not much. I came with Liam," Dru motioned to Liam, who was now  
having a nice discussion with Joyce and Buffy.  
  
"Hm. He's my house-mate's boy," Spike chuckled. "Small word, eh?"  
  
"Indeed," Dru nodded.  
  
"Come with me to get the stuff they took from me," Spike told her,  
taking her by the hand and taking her out of the courthouse to the  
prison they kept him penned up in. "Here for my stuff, mate," he  
said to the guard.  
  
The guard rolled his eyes, "One moment, Henry."  
  
"Henry?" Dru wanted to know.  
  
"Six words: 'I'm Henry the Eighth, I am'," Spike grinned.  
  
Drusilla laughed, grasping what he meant. Within moments the  
guard had returned with a box of Spike's stuff. "Thanks mate."  
  
"Bye Henry. STAY OUT OF TROUBLE!" the guard called after  
him. "I don't want you in here anymore," he grumbled. "You're  
annoying beyond annoying."  
***  
  
Spike stopped in the restroom and changed back into the clothes  
he'd arrived at the police station in. Then he led Drusilla back to  
the courthouse, peeked inside to see if anyone was in there, and  
turned her back around to go outside and see if Joyce was still   
waiting for him.  
  
"Joyce," Spike grinned, walking out with Drusilla trailing him. "I  
missed you, Joyce. You cook so much better than the cops in  
there."  
  
Joyce laughed and waved it off. "I'm sure anything's better than  
prison food, though I've never tasted it myself. Who's your friend?"  
  
"Oh! This is Dru," he smiled proudly. "Knew her back in the day."  
  
"Hello Dru," Joyce replied, offering her hand.  
  
"Dru, this is Joyce, Buffy's mum," Spike filled in the blanks.  
  
Dru smiled and shook Joyce's hand, "Hello Joyce. I've heard  
much about you from Liam."  
  
"Well it just seems everyone knows Liam nowadays," Joyce laughed  
lightly. "Liam's over there waiting for you. He's talking with Buffy  
at the moment, but she'll be over here the minute you get over   
there...if that made any sense."  
  
"Perfectly fine," Dru replied, looking to Spike. "You stay out of  
trouble, you naughty boy."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "If I don't?"  
  
"I'll have to punish you," Dru smirked a smirk to rival and smirk   
Spike had ever thrown at anyone.  
  
"Funny, pet!" he called as Buffy migrated towards Joyce's car.  
  
"That arraignment was a disappointment," Buffy called to him.   
"You were supposed to stay in jail for...I dunno...life?"  
  
"Thanks for your support, princess," he replied, lowering his  
voice as she got nearer. He held the door open for her, but  
darted in the backseat before she could enter.  
  
"You're *so* polite too," Buffy told him dryly, getting in and  
closing the door behind her.  
  
"Again, thanks," he smirked at her and buckled his seatbelt.  
"I dunno know about you birds, but *I* know what I'm gonna  
do when I get home--I'm going upstairs and sleeping for   
about twenty years."  
  
"Maybe we'll get lucky and you'll go into a coma," Buffy told  
him.  
  
"I love you too, Buffy," Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
"Pity. Some people are meant to be loved while others are  
meant to...be obnoxious jerks," Buffy stepped on the foot  
that was slowly creeping towards hers. It kept moving.  
*Damn steel-toed boots.*  
  
He kicked her lightly, almost flirtatiously. She pinched him.  
  
"OW! MOM SPIKE KICKED ME!" Buffy cried. It hadn't hurt  
at all, but if Spike wanted to act like a ten-year-old so could  
she.  
  
"Spike, don't kick Buffy," Joyce sighed.  
  
"She pinched me, Joyce!" Spike wailed.  
  
"Buffy, don't pinch Spike," Joyce kept her eyes forward on the  
road. *We really don't need this...*  
  
The two continued to inflict mock-bodily harm on each other  
and wail to Joyce about it, and soon Joyce realized they didn't  
really mean it and were just playing around. Her frazzled nerves  
calmed some.  
  
Looks like everything was going to be back to normal. 


	5. 4.2/The Breakfast Club

Part 4.2/The Breakfast Club  
  
Again, other information on other parts 1, 2, and 3.  
  
This part is dedicated to Kelley. :-) And anyone else  
who's been encouraging me.  
  
This part is rated PG-13 for language. Naughty Spike.  
  
Oh, and Levi--this is *alternate* *universe*. Which   
means I do whatever I want to with the characters.  
Spike and Angel aren't the same Spike and Angel they  
were in the show--Spike is 18 (born in 1983), and   
Angel is 20 something. All born in the 1900s.  
  
~*~ 4.2/The Breakfast Club ~*~  
  
Drusilla looked at Liam as he drove her back to their...lair.  
  
Yes, lair.  
  
"Liam," she said. "When can we get rid of that stupid boy?"  
  
"It was your idea to get involved with him," Liam replied.   
"You can get rid of him when you want too. And since   
you're asking, I'm assuming you would like to get rid of  
him now."  
  
"When are you getting rid of the cheerleader girl?" Drusilla  
asked him, looking out the window now.  
  
"Cheerleader girl...? Oh, Buffy. There's something going on  
between her and William, so I'm going to play the jealous  
boyfriend and stomp out on her. Suppose that would be the  
perfect time for you to break things off with William," Liam  
turned the corner into their secret underground lair.  
  
"Yes, but when?" Dru climbed out of the car.  
  
"Tomorrow, Dru. Tomorrow."  
***  
  
It was Friday. Spike had been arrested on a Tuesday--of   
course though, everything happens on Tuesday--and had  
been arraigned on Thursday. So it only makes sense that  
now is Friday. Did I mention that it's Friday, December 7?  
Yes, indeedy it is.  
  
Anyway. Willow had decided Buffy was right, that Spike  
wasn't worth it. She would deal with her crush on him, but  
she would find someone else to hang with until her feelings  
undeveloped for Spike.  
  
So that morning she was walking down the hallway with  
Xander and Cordelia. "You know, Wills," Xander said,   
narrowly avoiding a head-on collison with someone. He  
barrelled past, dropping his belongings and not even   
caring. One of the teachers caught him and assigned him  
detention for whatever he'd done. "...That was odd."  
  
"Yeah," his female companions agreed.  
  
"...I forgot what I was gonna tell you," Xander laughed  
embarrassedly. "Maybe I'll remember in Trig." The bell  
rang. "Ugh. Another day, another job needing done by  
Xander Harris. See ya, Cordy."  
  
"Bye," she kissed him on the cheek and ran to her first  
period class.  
  
Xander and Willow walked into their Trig class and took  
their seats. The teacher passed out a surprise test, and  
told everyone to not talk and read the instructions. "You  
have the entire period. Have fun."  
  
Xander rolled his eyes and whispered to Willow, "Have fun  
with Trig? What's she smoking?"  
  
"No talking," the teacher intoned.  
  
"I dunno," Willow whispered back. "Better hush up though,  
Xander."  
  
"*No* *talking*," the teacher repeated.  
  
"Sorry ma'am," they both chorused.  
  
"But really, have fun with a test?" Xander rolled his eyes   
and wrote his name on his test, filling in some answers.  
"Talk about your oxymorons."  
  
The teacher got up from her desk and walked over to   
Xander's, leaning over on it. "Unless you want to give  
you and Miss Rosenberg a zero and Saturday detention,  
Mr. Harris, I suggest you stop talking."  
  
"Sorry," Xander replied, and waited until the teacher was  
almost to her desk before muttering something about evil  
teachers that probably ate brains for breakfast and that  
was why there were so many dumb people at the school.  
  
"Mr. Harris, Miss Rosenberg, come to my desk," the teacher  
commanded. "Bring your tests."  
  
Willow glared at Xander and stood, walking over to the  
teacher's desk, Xander trailing her. "Give me your tests,"  
she said, taking both their tests and ripping them in half.  
"I warned you, Mr. Harris." She took out a pad of detention  
slips and filled one out for both of them for Saturday   
detention. "Tomorrow." She handed it to them. "Go back  
to your seats and be quiet, or we'll add to the detention,  
Mr. Harris."  
  
Xander shook his head and walked back to his desk.   
  
"Willow," the teacher caught her arm lightly. "You can come  
back afterschool one day and make up the test. I know it  
wasn't your fault, but I have to teach Xander to be quiet."  
  
"I understand," Willow smiled. "Do I still have to serve   
Saturday detention?"  
  
"Yes," the teacher said. "I'm sorry."  
  
"It's all right."  
***  
  
Spike whistled while he worked in science. Buffy kept telling  
him to shut up and be quiet. Eventually it turned into a verbal  
sparring match, causing both students to get Saturday   
detention.  
  
"I hate you," Buffy growled, staring at her Saturday detention  
notice.  
  
"Love you too," Spike replied dryly, folding his detention slip  
and putting it in his pocket.  
  
"You gonna serve it? If you're not planning on going, I'm going  
to drag your ass there and make you go. 'Cause I am *so* not  
going this alone," Buffy threatened.  
  
"Don't have much of a choice, do I now, Princess?" Spike rolled  
his eyes. "I'll be there."  
  
"Both of you stop talking or you'll get another," Cordelia warned.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and stopped talking.  
***  
-SATURDAY-  
  
Liam and Drusilla came to the house Joyce, Buffy, and Spike   
shared that morning, around seven o'clock, just before Buffy and  
Spike had to leave to go to detention.  
  
"Buffy, I have to talk to you," Liam grabbed her hand and pulled   
her down the sidewalk a little.  
  
"And I you, William," Dru cornered him on the porch.  
  
"Buffy, I don't think is going to work out," Liam averted his eyes  
to the ground.  
  
Bufy's eyebrows twitched and drew together. "What?"  
  
"What am I saying is, I don't think you love me all that much   
anymore," his eyes flickered to Spike, "and I'm pretty sure I don't  
love you anymore..."  
  
Buffy looked to the ground. "Fine. Whatever. Go. Do what you  
want."  
  
"That's what I plan on doing. Bye, Buffy," he kissed her cheek and  
hopped into his car.  
  
~  
"You know, William," Dru said casually. "I just want to make   
something clear. You know that night didn't mean anything, right?"  
  
Spike blinked. It hit him like a sledgehammer. "Y-yeah...o' course...  
why would it mean anything?"  
  
"Just wanted to make sure. Bye now," she turned and walked down  
the sidewalk to join Liam in the car. The two left.  
  
"Shit," Spike muttered. Then he yelled after the car, "You soddin'  
BITCH! I don't need you!" He threw a rock after the car. It made   
a dent on the trunk and bounced off harmlessly onto the road.   
"Don't you ever come back either!"  
  
"Let's go Spike," Buffy told him, tugging on his sleeve and trying to  
hide her tears. "Let's go. Now."  
  
He grumbled under his breath and hopped into the car, pulling out  
of the driveway as soon as Buffy got in. He drove them quickly to  
the school and parked on the other side of the parking lot than  
Tuesday. He walked in with Buffy to the library, and took a seat  
in the back. The other three students in detention were already  
there, and Buffy knew two of the other three--Xander and Willow,  
and some guy with brown hair and a face that would stick in your  
mind if you didn't even know him.  
  
Then the principle--Principle Snyder--walked in and laid down the  
law. "You're all to remain silent--that means no talking. No   
rough-housing, no partying, and most of all--don't bother me. No  
monkey business, you hear?"  
  
The five nodded.  
  
"Any questions?" Snyder asked.  
  
"Sir, are we going to be able to use the facilities?" Spike replied.  
"I mean, if we can't, then that means we have to right here--"  
  
"Don't move, Walthrop," Snyder sneered. "Nobody moves in here.  
Before lunch you'll have a lavatory break."  
  
"Aren't you nice," Spike muttered.  
  
"Keep talking, Mr. Walthrop, I already have you next weekend.   
And after break," Snyder told him.  
  
"Oh, like I care," Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
"The weekend after that too," Snyder held up three fingers. "Wanna  
make it four?"  
  
"Why not, I'm not gonna show up anyway. I only came 'cause   
the Princess over there made me," Spike snorted.  
  
"Four. One month, Walthrop. Are you finished?"  
  
"...No."  
  
"Okay. Five. If you're done, I'm going to be right across the hall."  
  
"I'm just getting started, Snyder."  
  
"Six."  
  
"Bite me."  
  
"Seven. Wanna keep going?"  
  
"Sod off."  
  
"Eight. Are you done now?"  
  
"Stop it!" Buffy told him, then looked at him and conveyed for him  
to stop with her eyes.  
  
"I suppose," Spike looked at Buffy and sighed.  
  
"Two months, Walthrop. I got you two months. I'm right across  
the hall, any funny business and I'm smashin' skulls," Snyder turned  
and promptly left the room.  
  
Within a few moment, Spike jumped up and fixed the door so it wouldn't  
stay open. He hurried and sat down between the brown haired boy and  
Buffy. Snyder came in, growled at them, and told them again if he had  
to come investigate anything else someone was going to come back   
next weekend. Buffy smacked Spike, "Put it back, Spike."  
  
"No," Spike got up and sat on the counter. "We need some privacy, you  
know." Then he looked at Willow and Xander and cocked an eyebrow at  
them. "What'd you two goody-goodies do to get in here?"  
  
"Xander was talking during a test and she busted me too," Willow sighed.  
"What'd you and Buffy do?"  
  
"Buffy decided to be Miss Priss--"  
  
"Excuse me? That wasn't *my* fault. It was yours, Mr. Prick."  
  
"Whatever," Spike yawned and looked at the brown-haired kid. "Hey, kid.  
Who the bloody hell are you?"  
  
"Oz," the boy replied simply. "And you are...?"  
  
"You mean you didn't catch my name the many times Snyder said it? I'm  
Walthrop. Spike Walthrop," he answered. "Tha's the princess, Buffy. And  
tha's Willow and the whelp is Xander."  
  
"Now that introductions are out of the way," Xander said, "I kinda don't  
want detention the first day of Christmas vacation, so why don't you shut  
up and sit down, Spike?"  
  
"I am sittin', stupid bloke. Maybe you need your eyes checked, mate," Spike  
suggested.  
  
"Or maybe I need my hearing checked, 'cause I coulda sworn I told you to  
shut up," Xander retorted.  
  
"Is it me or is the testosterone level in here increasing?" Buffy interrupted.  
"You two may as well be arguing over which of your--"  
  
"Finish that sentence and I will be forced to hurt you," Oz joked.  
  
Willow smiled at him. He smiled back. "I've never seen you around, Oz."  
  
"I'm one of those people who blend in with the lockers," Oz replied.  
  
"Ah. I used to be one of those people," Willow laughed lightly.  
  
"Hey, aren't you the guy that ran past us on Friday morning? We had  
another girl with us," Xander turned his attention to Oz.  
  
"I don't know. Everyone's faces kinda blurred into one big mass," Oz  
shrugged. "Probably ran by you three."  
  
"You dropped your books by us, I remember," Willow said.  
  
"Oh. Then it was me," Oz laughed.  
  
Spike looked at the clock. "What're we gonna do for the next few   
hours?"  
  
Buffy took a Discman out of her bag and turned it on, putting the   
headphones over her ears to block out everyone. She then laid her  
head on her arms and tried to fall asleep.  
  
Spike smirked and inched over there once she was sleeping soundly  
and had the Discman off. He turned up the volume and turned on  
the Discman.  
  
Buffy shrieked and ripped her headphones off as Spike backed up  
and laughed so hard he started to cry. She threw her headphones  
at him. "You ASSHOLE!"  
  
"Oh that was hilarious," Spike laughed as he blocked the headphones.  
"Bloody Kodak moment!"  
  
"Loser," Oz muttered under his breath and turned to Willow. "I'm   
horrible at names, what did you say yours was?"  
  
"Willow Rosenberg," the redhead smiled. "I'm not normally in here..."  
  
"Me either," Oz grinned. And they continued to talk as Buffy, Xander,  
and Spike continued their bickering.  
***  
  
"What're we having for lunch?" Spike plopped down next to Buffy.  
  
"*We* aren't having lunch," Buffy glared. "*I* am. Not my fault  
you didn't bring anything."  
  
Spike snorted. "Right, forgot--Princess can't be bothered with   
trivial things like sharin' her bloody lunch with her housemate. I  
got it. Wonder how Joyce would look upon tha--"  
  
Buffy shoved half her sandwich at his chest. "Eat up, bucko."  
  
"Knew you loved me," Spike grinned and ate the half of the   
sandwich in three bites. "What else are we havin', pet?"  
  
"Don't call me 'pet'," Buffy shoved the brown paper bag at him.  
"You can have the chips--but leave everything else."  
  
"Stingy. And so near the Christmas season," Spike dug in the  
bag for the proferred chips. "Eureka."  
  
Everyone turned at looked at him.   
  
"What the hell are you lookin' at?" he demanded, proceeding to  
munch on the Lays.  
  
"...You said 'eureka'," Xander supplied. "That's so...not like   
you."  
  
"So I have to conform to what you think I would say? And I  
suppose I have to act the way you think I would act," Spike  
snorted. "Not bloody likely."  
  
The room fell silent. Spike munched loudly on his Lays, and  
the rest of them ate their lunches quietly. He set the Lays  
bag on Buffy's head--and got it thrown at him, but it never  
made it past the edge of the table--and he jumped up on the  
counter.  
  
"I know a song that get's on everybody's nerves, everybody's  
nerves, everybody's nerves," he sang.  
  
Xander threw his empty soda can at him and beaned him on  
the forehead.  
  
"Ow," Spike rubbed his forehead. "Fine. I'll sing something  
else."  
  
"Hey, why don't you sing a Christmas carol?" Buffy suggested.  
"You know, Silent Night?"  
  
"Oh ha ha, princess," Spike stuck his tongue out at her.  
  
"Oh yeah, *that's* real mature," Buffy retorted, then stuck  
her tongue out back.  
  
"Get down, Henry," Willow told him. "Sit down too."  
  
"'Ey, don't call me that," Spike grumbled. "Name's Spike,  
pidge."  
  
"Well sit down," Willow replied.  
  
"Henry?" Buffy burst out laughing. "How the hell did you get  
such a fitting name?"  
  
Spike glared and sighed. Then he took a deep breath and  
started singing Henry the Eighth at the top of his lungs, still  
standing on the counter.  
  
Snyder opened the door and glared at Spike. "Get down,   
*now*, Walthrop. Get your stuff and come with me."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and jumped off the counter, gathering  
his stuff and following Snyder out. "Hey, Snyder," Spike said.  
Snyder didn't answer. "Did you hear anythin' 'bout a big   
diamond gettin' jacked from a museum or summat?"  
  
"Yes. It happened earlier this week and they're still looking  
for it. Wouldn't be surprised if it was you who took it,   
Walthrop," Snyder opened the broom closet door. "In."  
  
"No bloody way!" Spike stepped away from the closet.  
  
"Get in," Snyder jostled him in there. "And stay there." He  
locked the door once Spike was in there and left.  
  
Spike snorted. "If I were to kill anyone, would be that   
Snyder bloke, not Ms. H or Mrs. Robinson."  
***  
  
Spike crawled through the air vents after shedding his   
extra layer of clothing. Stealthily, he dropped through the  
air vent in the library. "'Ello everyone, I'm back."  
  
"All too soon," Buffy replied. "We were enjoying the peace  
and quiet."  
  
"You know you missed me, luv," Spike smirked. "Where's  
Red and that Odd bloke?" He glanced about for them.  
  
"Oz, for one thing. And Snyder has them running an  
errand," Xander told him.  
  
"I see," Spike sat at a table further back and pulled a  
cigarette out of his pocket and a lighter.  
  
"Hey, don't spark up in here," Xander called.  
  
"Bite me," Spike did it anyway.  
  
Buffy's eyes flickered from Xander back to Spike and   
she got up, going back and taking a drag off his cigarette.  
Spike's eyes went wide to say the least.  
  
Willow and Oz chose that moment to walk back into  
the library. "Um..." Willow said.  
  
"I second that," Oz added.  
  
"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere else...?" Willow  
looked at Spike oddly.  
  
"Didn't feel like stayin'," Spike propped his booted feet  
on the table and draped his arm over the back of Buffy's  
chair. "Anyone else want one?" meaning the cigarettes.  
  
"No, you can keep them if you want," Xander declined.  
  
"Me 'n' the Princess'll have all the fun then," Spike   
declared, taking another drag off the cigarette.  
  
"Why aren't the smoke alarms going off?" Willow asked.  
  
Xander shrugged. "I don't know. I was wondering that  
myself."  
***  
  
Before they knew it, they were all trading private stories.  
And, the clock ticked its way towards four o'clock, when  
detention was over. It reached three o'clock, and Spike  
caught sight of the clock. "Best be goin', mates. Bye."  
He climbed into the air ducts and crawled back to the  
closet he'd been locked in.  
  
Xander went back to his seat and buried his head in his  
arms and tried to sleep. Buffy also went back to her seat  
and put her headphones on. Willow and Oz stayed in the  
back, talking quietly.  
  
"Do you go the Bronze a lot, Willow?" Oz asked.  
  
"Yeah. Mostly with my friends, why?" Willow replied curiously.  
  
"I have a band, Dingoes Ate My Baby. We're gonna be   
playing at the Bronze tonight, if you wanna come see us and  
tell me how we are," Oz told her.  
  
Willow smiled. "Sure I'll go tonight."  
  
Oz returned the smile, and everyone watched Buffy get up  
and walk out of the library.  
***  
  
Buffy picked the lock on the broom closet with a hair pin she  
found in her bag. The lock was amazingly easy to open, for  
an amateur like her even. She opened the door and leaned  
back against it, looking at Spike.  
  
"You lost, Princess?" Spike asked.  
  
Buffy just smiled.  
  
"I realize this isn't the time to ask, but did Liam break up with  
you?" Spike inquired.  
  
Buffy nodded, sighing.  
  
"I'm sorry, pet," he looked away, and suddenly felt Buffy's lips  
pressed to the side of his neck. He blinked and looked up at  
her. "Uh...maybe you had too much nic--"  
  
He didn't get to finish that statement as Buffy fastened her  
mouth to his.  
***  
  
All too soon it was four o'clock, and detention was over. Spike  
knew Buffy was just hurting when she kissed him and probably  
didn't mean it, so he kept quiet about it as he drove them home.  
He parked in the driveway, got out of the car, and hurried into   
the house. He needed some time to sort out his feelings. He  
thought he was in love with Drusilla, but now he realized that  
she was the woman in the basement of the Bronze and was  
Liam's partner in crime--literally. So he was just lusting after her.  
He had thought he was going to go after Willow for a little while,  
but she really wasn't his type. She was too quiet, and had not  
much of an attitude to speak of. He needed some fire in his woman.  
One that was all jagged edges with a soft center, if you could get  
past her brittle exterior.  
  
As he trudged up the stairs after calling a greeting to Joyce, he  
ran over his requirements for his woman. Fiery...'jagged edges'...  
soft heart when you could reach it...  
  
And as he flopped down on his bed, he realized he just described  
Buffy Summers.  
  
"Oh shit." 


	6. 5/I Make You What?

Part 5/I Make You What?  
  
Dedicated again to everyone who's decided to review my  
fic. It keeps me writing, you have no idea how much it   
means to me!  
  
~*~ 5/I Make You What? ~*~  
  
Saturday night of the week after the detention found Willow  
at the Bronze, watching Dingoes Ate My Baby perform for the  
eighth time since she met Oz. The avoiding-Spike-thing had  
worked, she was over him and slowly becoming more and more  
attracted and fascinated with Oz. So when Dingoes Ate My  
Baby was packing up and the DJ was replacing them, Willow  
hopped onstage to help them.  
  
"Hey Willow," Oz smiled. "Guys, this is Willow. The one I was  
telling you about."  
  
Willow blushed lightly and said hello to the rest of Dingoes Ate  
My Baby and went back to packing things up.  
  
"He talks about you *all* the time," Devon, one of the band   
members, offered.  
  
Oz rolled his eyes and packed up some cable. "Not *all* the  
time..."  
  
Willow blushed again and snapped a guitar case shut.  
  
"Since Oz is such a wuss, I'm going to ask for him. You wanna  
go out with him, Willow?" Devon asked, picking up the guitar   
case lugging it over to the drums.  
  
Oz groaned. "I planned that much more romantically. Trust   
me."  
  
Willow smiled and brushed her hair from her eyes. "I'd love to,  
Oz."  
  
Oz grinned lopsidedly. "All right then."  
***  
  
Spike raced along the park sidewalks nervously. He had been  
taking a nap earlier during detention--he didn't have quite the  
escapade he'd had last week--but while napping he'd had a  
dream, a quite disturbing dream. One about Buffy. Let's leave  
it at that.  
  
Since they'd made out in the broom closet the previous week  
he couldn't get her out of his mind. Whether it was lazily   
thinking about the kiss or trying to deny what he felt for her,  
she was usually on his mind. And he could barely stay in the  
house with her without starting to stutter, or without his palms  
sweating, and acting like a twelve-year-old with a crush on   
an older girl.  
  
And Buffy had been giving him strange looks.  
  
Spike groaned and kicked a nearby tree. "Damn it! Bloody  
princess, drivin' everyone up the bloody wall..."  
  
A woman in her twenties passed by, eyebrow raised, and edged  
off into the grass to avoid him. Spike shook his head and   
hurried down the sidewalk. It wasn't long before he was knocked  
flat on his back out of carelessness.  
  
"William," the speaker--male--sounded surprised. "What are you  
doing here?"  
  
"Maybe I should be askin' you that, mate," Spike shook his head  
clear of the cobwebs and jumped to his feet. He glared at Liam.  
"Bloody poofter."  
  
"Nice to see you too," Liam retorted.  
  
"Sod off," Spike muttered, starting past him.  
  
"She's back in town, you know," Liam told him.  
  
"'She'?" Spike repeated. "Mind elaboratin'?"  
  
"Darla," Laim looked at Spike. Spike's eyes went wide. "Thought  
that name would sound familiar to you."  
  
"What the *bloody* *hell* is that wench doing here?" Spike   
demanded.  
  
"Ask her yourself," Liam nodded over Spike's shoulder.  
  
The eighteen-year-old boy spun around and nearly passed out.  
The blond woman stood not seven feet away. "Spike," she smiled.  
"What a pleasant surprise."  
  
Spike looked back over his shoulder to see if Liam was there--  
surprise, surprise, he wasn't--and he looked back at Darla. "What  
are you doin' here, Darla?"  
  
"Came to see how my favorite cousin was doing," she answered.  
"And clean up some business. Spike, you didn't tell me you were  
here, and you knew I was right in LA."  
  
"Maybe that gave you the hint that I didn't want to see you,  
Dar," he replied, trying to shove past her. But she moved into  
his way. "Move, Dar. I don't have time to play your games."  
  
"Liam told me something interesting," she continued, as if Spike  
had never spoken.  
  
"I don't care. I don't have time for this," Spike stepped the   
other way but she blocked him again.  
  
"He told me you're involved with his ex," Darla said.  
  
"Ha! Not bloody likely," Spike snorted. "Look, if you got a point,  
please get to it, Dar. I don't wanna keep...her waiting."  
  
"He knows you know about him and Drusilla," Darla glared.  
  
"I think that merits a bloody happy dance," he answered dryly,  
sparking up a cigarette. "Wait--how do *you* know about  
them?"  
  
Darla smiled innocently. "Who do you think told Liam about you?"  
  
"Bitch," Spike growled, throwing his cigarette down and stomping  
it out, pushing past her.  
  
"You can't walk away from me, Spike. I know where you live,"  
Darla told him.  
  
"What are you, nine? 'I know where you live'?" Spike continued  
walking.  
  
"Liam wants to know why you haven't turned him in yet," Darla  
caught up with him.  
  
"Because I'm not exactly best mates with the law enforcers,"  
Spike growled, starting to walk towards Revello Drive.  
  
Darla rolled his eyes. "Look--you probably won't, but meet me  
at Starbucks tomorrow morning. I gotta get going."  
  
"Won't miss you," Spike picked up the pace as Darla turned off  
onto another street.   
  
"Ugh. Spike, there you are," Buffy called to him. "Mom's getting  
worried about you. Thought you got hit by a car or something."  
  
Spike just grunted in response.  
  
Buffy ran over to him. "You okay?"  
  
Spike shrugged. Buffy frowned, "You're all bad moody...what's  
up?"  
  
"Nothing," Spike muttered.  
  
"It's not nothing--you're never like this. You've been acting  
weird all week..." Buffy followed him inside.  
  
"It's nothing," Spike insisted.  
  
"Spike! Thank god," Joyce enveloped him in a hug. "I thought  
something had happened to you."  
  
Spike shook his head, "I'm fine, Joyce, thanks for your concern  
though. If it's all the same, I'm tired, and think I'm gonna go  
hit the hay."  
  
Joyce watched him walk up the stairs and heard his door shut  
behind him. Then she turned to Buffy, "Why don't you take   
him out to the Bronze with you tomorrow, Buffy? He looks so  
depressed."  
  
Buffy wasn't the most chipper of everyone either, but she   
conceded to Joyce's request. "Okay, okay, I will." She hurried  
up the stairs and knocked on Spike's door. "Spike?"  
  
"S'open," he replied from inside, obviously concentrating on  
something else.  
  
Buffy opened the door to find him sitting on the bed in nothing  
but a pair of sweats with the edge of his boxers peeking over the  
top. "I'm rounding everyone up for a group trip to the Bronze   
tomorrow. Wanna come?"  
  
"Thanks but no," Spike told her distractedly.  
  
She came into the room and kneeled beside his bed, her arms   
resting on the mattress. "Spike, you look depressed."  
  
"How keen of you to notice," he put down the magazine he was  
reading and stepped around Buffy to get off the bed.  
  
"I think a trip to the Bronze would cheer you up," Buffy   
declared.  
  
"Since when do you care whether I'm depressed or not? Thought  
you'd be jumpin' for joy that I was leavin' you be," Spike looked  
at her, the only eye contact he'd made all night.  
  
Buffy sighed frustratedly. "Okay, fine. Mom asked me to take  
you to the Bronze tomorrow night, and I figured--hey, Spike's not  
himself, and I miss that obnoxious smartass jerk, so I might as  
well help him get back to himself. If you don't wanna come, fine.  
*You* deal with my mother."  
  
She got up and stomped out of the room.  
  
"Buffy," he called.  
  
"What?" she called back irritatedly.  
  
"What time?"  
***  
  
Xander and Cordelia were snuggled nicely on the couch watching  
Save the Last Dance (Cordy's choice) when the phone rang.   
Luckily, it was on the end table next to Xander so he picked it  
up and answered it. It was Buffy, asking if he and Cordy wanted  
to go to the Bronze tomorrow night with her. He, unfortunately,  
had to decline because he and Cordy were going out to dinner.  
  
Then she growled and muttered something about Peroxide Boy and  
Willow being the only ones to go, thanked him anyway, and hung  
up.  
  
"Who was that?" Cordy asked.  
  
"Buff," Xander shrugged.  
  
"Oh," Cordy snuggled.  
***  
  
Willow, Spike, and Buffy all walked into the Bronze together.   
They claimed a table underneath the stairs, and Willow looked  
around for someone from her seat.  
  
Buffy looked behind her. "You okay, Wills?"  
  
Willow nodded. "I just wish you guys coulda heard Dingoes Ate  
My Baby. They're really good."  
  
"Thanks," Oz slid a chair up to Willow's and put an arm around   
her shoulders.  
  
Buffy blinked. "You're...Oz, right?"  
  
Oz nodded. "That I am."  
  
"Dingoes ate your what, Red?" Spike tilted his head to the  
side.  
  
"Dingoes Ate My Baby," Oz supplied. "My band."  
  
"They're really good," Willow smiled. "I saw them forever, I   
should know."  
  
"Wanna dance, cutie?" Oz asked, getting out of his seat and  
offering his hand to Willow.  
  
"Definitely," Willow accepted his hand and followed him out   
into the warehouse dance floor.  
  
Spike sighed and shelled a couple of the peanuts from the  
bowl on the center of the table. "Now what, princess?"  
  
"Would you stop calling me that, Spike? My name is Buffy,"  
she shot a look at him.  
  
"Bugger this. I'm outta here," Spike grabbed his duster   
from the back of his chair and started to get up.  
  
"You're not going anywhere," Buffy grabbed his wrist, digging  
her nails in as he tried to escape.  
  
"Ow! Bloody hell, what do you want me to call you? Buffy the  
Man Slayer?" Spike rubbed his wrist. He felt the strangest   
sense of deja vu. "I'll just call you that from now on. Slayer."  
  
"You do and I am *so* going to hurt you," Buffy glared.  
  
"Too late," he muttered. "Why don't you just sod off and let  
me go?"  
  
"Because Mom'll get mad at me," Buffy sighed. "Listen. Just  
dance one time and then you can go, all right?"  
  
Dance? With Buffy? She didn't need to tell him twice.  
  
"Fine," Spike sighed, hoping he sounded as frustrated as he wanted  
to sound.  
  
The song just changed.  
  
---  
You make me sick  
I want you and I'm hatin' it  
Got me lit like a candlestick  
Get too hot when you touch the tip  
I'm feelin' it, I gotta get a grip  
And it's drivin' me crazy--  
Baby don't you quit  
Can't get enough of it  
You got me goin' again  
Baby, you got me goin' again  
You make me sick  
---  
  
Buffy closed her eyes and began to bust a groove, letting the  
music take her over, not even paying attention to the lyrics. Spike,  
on the other hand, heard every word, and was hypnotized by the  
way Buffy's body moved.  
  
---  
He was doing 8-0 on the freeway  
In the 6 double O, bumpin Isley  
He was gettin kinda close, kinda touch-ay  
Cuz he had a little too much Hennessey  
---  
  
Buffy heard the words this time and felt Spike's tentative hands on  
her hips and she unconciously backed up into him, molding their bodies  
together into one fluid movement.  
  
---  
He told me that he wanna go home,   
with me up on the hill to my condo  
Told me he would keep it all on the low-low  
But I told him, "boo, I don't really know though"  
He got closer to me...it started gettin' deep  
He had me in a zone when he started to show me things  
I never saw before  
---  
  
Buffy turned to face him and looked into his blue eyes. She smiled   
when she saw how reverently he looked at her, and realized that was  
why he'd been acting so funny that week. The make-out session  
was more than that to him. Maybe to her as well.  
  
---  
Baby was smooth but I knew it was game  
Hell-of-a cool but you men are the same  
The way he licked his lips and touched my hips  
I knew that he was slick  
---  
  
She turned around again, her back pressing against his chest as she  
moved. She raised her arms and hooked them around his neck as he  
trailed his hands down her sides, their hips moving from side to side  
in the same rhythm.  
  
And before they knew it, "You Make Me Sick" by Pink melted into   
another song, and another, and another...  
***  
  
...and it got to be one in the morning before Willow approached them  
and told them she hated to break up the party, but her mother was  
expecting her. "It wouldn't do if i came home at 2:30 again. She was  
*mad* last time."  
  
"Oh. Well, go then," Buffy said.  
  
"I...kinda can't, I told Oz I would go back with you two," Willow looked  
at them and at Spike's arms still wrapped around Buffy.  
  
Buffy gently took Spike's arms off from around her. "Let's go then.   
Mom might freak if we're not back soon."  
  
"Let's go," Spike agreed.  
***  
  
Prolonged silence occupied the car on the way back to the house on  
Revello Drive. Spike glanced at the driveway to see Joyce's car gone.  
He shook his head and led Buffy inside, finding a not from Joyce.  
  
"Here," he handed it to her and turned to out the back door to have  
a cigarette--  
  
--and was nearly scared witless.  
  
"Spike?" Buffy called from the living room where she'd gone after getting  
the note and hearing his yelp.  
  
"Stay there, pet," he called back, glaring at the face of Darla. He  
opened the back door and stepped outside. "What do you want *now*  
Darla?"  
  
"You didn't meet me this morning. I knew you wouldn't. And I told you  
I knew where you lived," Darla told him.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "Okay. You found me. Spit it out."  
  
"Liam has something for you to do," Darla held up a think manila envelope.  
  
"You've got ot be bloody kidding me," Spike gave her a look that would've  
sent a pitbull running in fear.  
  
"'Fraid not, cousin," Darla shrugged.  
  
"Bint. You think I'm going to be *Liam's* sodding errand boy you're  
off your bloody bird," Spike growled, sneering angrily.  
  
Buffy watched from the kitchen window. Next thing she knew, Spike  
was slapped by the blond woman and, out of reflex Buffy hoped, Spike  
punched the blond in the face. She stumbled backwards, threaten him,  
and took off, holding her face.  
  
Spike came back inside, grumbling about the manila folder he carried.  
  
"Spike?" Buffy asked tentatively. His head snapped up and he looked  
at her like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Who was  
that?"  
  
"My cousin," he sighed.  
  
"What's that?" Buffy picked up the manila folder he'd put on the   
table.  
  
"Something that'll pro'ly get me killed if I don't deliver it," Spike sat  
down at the table.  
  
Buffy looked at the address it needed to be delivered to. "This is   
Mom's gallery..."  
  
"Which means Peaches is running an operation through your mum's  
gallery," Spike ran a hand through his hair and hung his jacket   
across the back of his chair. "You should forget you saw that, luv."  
  
Buffy shook her head, "No. I don't think so. Spike, I remember  
what happened at the Bronze that time. Ang--I mean, Liam has  
or had that huge diamond they're still looking for. If he's into that,  
and if Drusilla is with him, they're probably dangerous. Not to  
mention your cousin is involved, and I don't know about you but  
I'm looking forward to paying Liam back for doing that to me."  
  
"It's too dangerous for a cheerleader-type like yourself, Buffy," he  
hugged her. "And...your mum as well. So it'd be best if I packed  
up and left."  
  
"Don't you dare," Buffy took hold of his shirt in both fists. "If you  
leave, so do I."  
  
"No. You stay here. You watch over your mum. And since when  
d'you want to help *me* out?" he still had his arms around her   
waist.  
  
"Since...last Saturday," Buffy told him decidedly.  
  
"As long as we're clear on that," Spike released her. "I'm still   
leaving. And if you follow me, Buffy, I swear--"  
  
She pushed him into the kitchen wall. "You swear what?"  
  
"I'll have to do something drastic," he rasped roughly.  
  
"Like what?" Buffy pressed.  
  
"I dunno," he whispered.  
  
"Let me come with you," Buffy murmured pleadingly. "I can  
help you..."  
  
"The only way you can help me is to stay here with your mum,"  
Spike finally cleared the Buffy-induced fog from his head and  
pushed her away, walking out of the kitchen.  
  
In about ten minutes Spike came down carrying a duffel bag.  
"Tell your mum thanks for havin' me, princess."  
  
She stood in the front doorway, looking at him. She had a  
bag slung over her arm and her arms folded. "I'm coming with  
you."  
  
Spike threw up his arms helplessly. "*Stay* *here*. *Stay*  
here, Buffy. Your mum needs you."  
  
"No. I'm going, and that's that," Buffy told him.  
  
Spike turned and went out the back door, climbing up a tree  
in the backyard and hoping into the neighbor's yard. From there  
he hopped over the fence and took the road back there.  
  
"Damn it," Buffy muttered, tossing her backpack onto the couch  
and shaking her head. She sighed. "Be careful, Spike." 


	7. 6/My Gift To You

Part 6/My Gift To You  
  
Thank you, everyone who has taken the time to review!  
  
And I know it's a little late for Christmas, I had a little trouble  
writing the last part, and quite frankly--that one took place  
the week before Christmas.  
  
Oh, and this part mostly focusses on Buffy and Spike. Joyce,  
Willow, and some of the others are briefly in it.  
  
And no, this isn't the last part. There's going to be more,   
believe me. Action kinda slows down in this one though, it's  
pretty fluffy.  
  
Oh, and Cindy--this is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE, which means  
characters act different. I'm sorry you don't like this, but I   
plainly put on the summary that this is in an AU story, and not  
to read it if you expected characters to be in character.   
Apparently you did read the summary, but did not heed my   
warning. Oh well. Not my problem.  
  
~*~ 6/My Gift To You ~*~  
  
Spike wandered the Christmas tree lot aimlessly, examining a  
tree every now and then. He carried his duffel bag over one  
shoulder, having not settled down anywhere lately. He thanked  
whoever ran things up there that it was Christmas vacation and  
he didn't have to worry about school...not that he really ever  
did.  
  
"Sir?" one of the tree lot workers said behind him. "You've been  
walking around for a while. Not to sound rude or anything, but  
if you're not going to buy a tree you should probably go."  
  
"I'm waitin' for someone, mate," Spike told the pimply college   
student.  
  
"Oh," he shifted uncomfortably. "Could you wait in front then?"  
  
"Wanna surprise her," Spike shot the college guy a look.  
  
"Oooh," the guy nodded understandingly. "Hope she shows soon  
then."  
  
"Me too," Spike muttered, going behind another tree.  
  
There. He caught sight of the car Buffy drove and walked   
behind a row of trees, watching her pull around and park. She  
climbed out with Joyce and Willow. He smiled, creeping closer  
to them until he walked right around behind them.  
  
He grabbed Buffy's arm as she passed and planted his mouth on  
hers to prevent her from shrieking. As soon as she realized who  
it was she pulled away and looked up at him. "You're okay," she  
breathed. "You're okay!" she hugged him tightly. "Oh god...I   
was so worried about you..."  
  
He returned the hug, realizing how much he'd missed her then.  
He stroked her hair. "You all right, luv? Everything all right with  
your mum too?"  
  
"Everything's fine," she sighed. "Where are you staying?"  
  
"Nowhere right now," he kicked his duffel bag lightly. He'd set  
it down next to him before he had grabbed Buffy.  
  
"Come back home, please," Buffy pleaded quietly. "Liam's leaving  
you alone now, right?"  
  
"Far from it, princess," he traced her jaw lightly.  
  
"Tell him you don't want to do it. Just turn him in, Spike," Buffy  
told him. "Give me your cell phone. I know you have it. I'll call  
the police right now and anonymously tip them off."  
  
He dug his cell phone from his pocket with one hand and gave it  
to her. After dialing information, she called the police and deepened  
her voice, "Check out Liam McDowe for the missing diamond." Then  
she hung up. "Now come home."  
  
Spike groaned and rested his forehead on the top of her head. "He's  
gonna think I did it. He's gonna think I bloody tipped 'em off, Buffy!"  
  
"No he won't," Buffy looked up at him. "He won't."  
  
"Buffy?" called Joyce. "Buffy? Where'd you go?"  
  
"I gotta go now," she kissed him lightly. "I'm sorry. Bye."  
  
Spike held onto her hand lightly until her fingertips slipped from his  
hand and he looked at the ground. He shook his head and sighed,  
picking up his duffel bag and migrating to the back of the lot.  
***  
  
"I saw him," Buffy whispered to Willow.  
  
"Saw who?" Willow whispered back.  
  
"Spike. I saw him," she told her best friend. "He won't come back  
home. He says Liam's still after him, so I tipped off the police about  
him, and Spike thinks Liam's going to go after him."  
  
"Maybe," Willow shrugged. "I mean, who knows how he works?"  
  
Joyce looked back at them. "What are you two whispering about?"  
  
"Spi--" Willow started, getting elbowed by Buffy. "--ies. Pies."  
  
Joyce rolled her eyes and smiled. "How about this tree, Buffy?" she  
pointed out a not-too-large, not-too-small, not-too-thick not-too-  
thin tree. "I think it's perfect. I wish we had Spike's judgement   
though. I wonder where he went?"  
  
"I think it's perfect too, and I know Spike would like it," Buffy   
nodded decisively.  
  
"Then we'll have it. Go see if you can find someone to get it for  
us, Buffy," Joyce smiled.  
  
"Sure," she returned the smile and left, trying not to hurry. She  
didn't know what was wrong with her--she'd kissed Spike twice  
already tonight, and she was anxious to see him again. She was  
supposed to hate him, right? He was an obnoxious, smartass,  
sexy jerk--wait, how did sexy get in there?  
  
"C'mon, where are you," she murmured, peering between every  
row of trees.  
  
"Boo," Spike said from behind her.  
  
She yelped and spun around. "God! Don't *do* that!"  
  
Spike chuckled. "Hey. Couldn't wait to see me again, hm?" he  
folded his arms behind his head and walked with her.  
  
"No," she stuck her tongue out. "Mom sent me to go find a   
guy to get our tree."  
  
"There's zitface over there," he motioned to the attendant wandering  
around. "You 'n' him would pro'ly hit it off--"  
  
She smacked his arm. "Oh shut up."  
  
"I best be goin' then, princess," he told her regretfully. "Leave you  
to your tree and your mum--tell Red I said hello and tell your mum   
I'm okay."  
  
"Are you sure you just can't come back with us?" she held onto his  
arm.  
  
Spike nodded. "I wanna protect you, not put you in danger. Have  
a merry Christmas, princess."  
  
She pulled his head down and kissed him lightly. "Merry Christmas,  
Spike. That's my gift to you."  
  
He slipped a small box in Buffy's pocket and nodded. "Merry Christmas."  
  
Buffy shoved her hands in her pockets and watched him walk off.   
She turned around and walked over to Pimple Guy. "Hi. I have a tree  
I want..."  
***  
  
Buffy waited until she got home to run upstairs to her room and open  
the box Spike had slipped in her jacket pocket. What she found was a  
thin silver chain with a heart-shaped locket pendant on it. Engraved  
on the inside was, "To My Princess; Love, Spike". That nearly made   
her cry right there. Spike loved her...*her*!  
  
And she was usually so awful to him.  
  
"Mom?" Buffy called, running down the stairs two at a time. "Mom!"  
  
Joyce looked up from the box of ornaments she was sorting through.  
"What is it, Buffy?"  
  
"Do we have any small pictures of Spike?"  
***  
  
The night before Christmas Eve found Buffy, Willow, Oz, Xander,  
and Cordelia at The Bronze's Christmas Party. The only two nights  
a year the Bronze was closed were Christmas Eve and Christmas  
day, so they always held a party on the night before Christmas  
Eve.  
  
Xander caught sight of the silver locket around Buffy's neck and  
peered at it curiously. "Where'd you get that, Buff?"  
  
"What?" Buffy looked down. "Oh. This." She fingered the locket  
and sighed. "It was present."  
  
"What's inside?" Cordelia asked. "Or...who?"  
  
Reluctantly, knowing the others would freak out when they saw  
who it was, she took the locket off her neck and set it on the   
table, opening it.   
  
"'To My Princess; Love, Spike'," Oz read. Then he looked at the  
picture. "Good picture of him."  
  
"Thank you Oz," Buffy smiled. Then she looked at the slack-  
jawwed Xander and the giggling Cordelia, and finally looked at   
Willow, who was studying the locket curiously.  
  
"Do you know if this is stolen?" Willow inquired. "'Cause he   
steals a lot of stuff--"  
  
"I wouldn't give my princess a stolen locket," Spike piped up from  
behind them, leaning on the back of Buffy's chair.  
  
"Hey you," Buffy smiled warmly at him and leaned back against  
him. "Didn't think you were gonna be here."  
  
"And miss the biggest bash this town ever saw? Never," Spike  
grinned. "Hey Red, Odd, Whelp, Cordelia."  
  
"Oz," Buffy corrected, "and Xander."  
  
"Odd, and Whelp," Spike repeated.  
  
"You're hopeless," she groaned.  
  
"Nah, you're my only hope," he kissed her neck, causing her to  
giggle. The rest of the people at the table gawked.  
  
---  
The snow is fallin'  
The city is white  
Your eyes are shinin'  
Like diamonds tonight  
---  
  
The guys, Spike included, took their girls, Buffy too, out on the  
dance floor.  
  
---  
And we're all alone  
There's no one home  
You're finally in my arms again  
---  
  
"Fittin' song," Spike murmured, holding Buffy close to him.   
  
She wrapped her smaller arms loosely around his neck. "No   
kidding. Too bad it doesn't snow in southern California..."  
  
---  
The night is silent  
And Christmas is here  
And I couldn't ask for more than having you near  
'Cause I love you girl  
I always will  
---  
  
Oz smiled at Willow and twirled her around once. "I think I  
love you, Willow."  
  
"I think I love you back, Oz," Willow grinned and wrapped  
her arms around him, letting her head fall on his chest over his  
heart.  
  
---  
And now I know the moment is right  
The moment is right  
---  
  
Xander kissed Cordelia briefly. "How long have we been going  
out now?"  
  
"Officially? About two weeks. Unofficially? Since I moved   
here," Cordelia answered. "Why?"  
  
"Because I'm just wondering why I feel like I've known you all  
my life," Xander replied, resting his forehead on hers.  
  
Cordelia smiled and kissed him.  
  
---  
'Cause I've been waiting to give this gift tonight  
I'm down on my knees  
There's no better time  
It's something to last for as long as you live  
Tonight I'm gonna give you all my heart can give  
---  
  
"You're wearing the locket I gave you," Spike observed. "I   
didn't think you would."  
  
"Why not?" Buffy asked, barely even swaying with him as she  
rested her head on his chest.  
  
"'Cause I thought I mighta scared you off," Spike chuckled  
lightly. "Big, intimidatin' fella like myself not tellin' you face-to-  
face that I love you."  
  
All too late Spike realized the words that left his mouth. He  
sighed. "Sorry...didn't mean to say that...wasn't--"  
  
Buffy silenced him by placing a finger over his lips. "Hush. It's  
okay. I'm pretty sure I love you too."  
  
---  
I thought I'd give you something shiny and new  
I tried to find something worthy of you  
And I realized   
When I looked inside  
There's something that money can't buy  
---  
  
"You...you do?" Spike whispered, almost fearfully.  
  
"Yeah," Buffy grinned. "What, couldn't figure that out on   
your own? Why do you think I keep kissing you? Why do  
you think I've been letting you?"  
  
Spike mumbled something about being the rebound guy and  
held her to him tightly. "Guess I'm just blind."  
  
---  
I feel the magic whenever you're near  
---  
  
Oz kissed Willow and spun her again.  
  
---  
I feel it even more this time of the year  
---  
  
Xander dipped Cordy and twirled her around lightly, kissing  
her when she stopped.  
  
---  
'Cause I love you girl  
I always will  
And now I know the moment is right  
The moment is right  
---  
  
Spike and Buffy kissed the other gently, and proceeded to  
make out standing there on the dance floor.  
***  
  
Spike couldn't help himself and came back to the house on  
Revello Drive to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas day with  
the two most important women in his life--Joyce and Buffy  
Summers.  
  
"Are you going to stay here for good now, Spike?" Joyce asked,  
handing the boy a cup of hot cocoa and Buffy one as well.  
  
"I don't know. But do you mind if I stay here for tonight and  
tomorrow mornin'?" he asked.  
  
"Of course not," Joyce replied.  
  
"I really wish you'd stay," Buffy curled up next to him.  
  
"I really wish I could," he murmured to her.  
  
"Just out of curiosity," Joyce said amiably, "when did you two  
become so..."  
  
"Touchy-feely?" Buffy supplied.  
  
"I was going for lovey-dovey but that works," Joyce   
shrugged.  
  
"Remember when we went to the Christmas tree lot?" Buffy  
asked. "Y'know, on Thursday?"  
  
Joyce nodded. "I remember."  
  
"That was when," Spike told her as Buffy situated herself on  
his lap.  
  
"I see," Joyce nodded, satisfied. She glanced up at the   
clock. "Well, we'd better go to bed. It's almost ten."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Okay. To bed we go."  
***  
  
Spike woke in the morning to find that sometime during the  
night, Buffy (in pajamas, people--shirt and a pair of boxers)  
had crawled into bed next to him. He looked at her, not   
daring to move or say anything.  
  
In a matter of minutes she woke up though. "Morning, Spike."  
  
"Mornin', princess," he sat up and stretched his arms. He   
walked over to his closet and took a robe off the hanger, one  
of the only articles of clothing he hadn't taken with him. He  
wore a pair of black sweatpants and tied his robe closed.  
  
"Merry Christmas," she smiled sleepily at him.  
  
"Merry Christmas," he replied. "I'll get your robe and we'd best  
go downstairs--sounds like your mum's already awake."  
  
"Sounds good to me. Presents!" she grinned.  
  
He left and came back moments later with her robe. As soon  
as she put it on she attached herself to his arm and he escorted  
her downstairs.  
  
"Hello sleepy heads," Joyce said, sitting on the couch and sipping  
a cup of coffee.  
  
"Mornin' Joyce, Merry Christmas," Spike replied.  
  
"Good morning Mom," Buffy added. "Let's open presents!"  
***  
  
Spike didn't get any presents besides a kiss from Buffy, but Buffy  
got quite a few things--a couple of CDs, a new pair of headphones  
(the ones she'd thrown at Spike never quite worked the same after-  
wards), a new sweater, and a new skirt with matching top.  
  
Joyce had gotten mostly clothes as well, and Buffy made Christmas  
breakfast too as a present.  
  
It was a very satisfying Christmas for all of them. Spike got all he  
wanted at the Bronze two nights ago, and Buffy was very happy  
with all the things--and the person--she got. And they figured even  
criminals took Christmas off.  
  
Which meant Spike didn't have to worry about Liam, or Darla, or  
Drusilla--who had seemed to mysteriously vanish.  
  
So Joyce went out to buy some milk at the grocery store--they  
ran out when Buffy made breakfast and needed some for dinner--  
and Spike and Buffy cuddled on the couch.  
  
"When are you going to come back?" she asked softly.  
  
"When Liam's behind bars," he replied, stroking her arm comfortingly.  
  
"And if that never happens?"  
  
"It'll happen. I'll make sure of it." 


	8. 7/Bad Night

7/Bad Night  
  
Thank you to the following people: Ursubear, Kelley, Jane   
McCartney, Angelic Gemma, fluffypuff, cosmic, and Isabelle.  
Also, I'd like to say something to daphne and Cindy, even  
though I said something last part to Cindy: I'm glad you   
have your own opinion, but perhaps you should open your  
mind to more things. And daphne, "the point of writing  
fanfiction is to take characters that we recognize and put  
them in situations that we don't see on screen". As far as  
I know, we can still identify most of the characters as who  
they are, and I'm pretty damn sure that none of this has  
ever been on the television screen.  
  
This chapter also picks up the pace in the action, just so  
you guys know. I don't think there are going to be very  
many more parts. Sorry! Maybe if you ask nicely I'll see  
what I can do about a sequel, if you want...  
  
This part rated PG-13 for violence.  
  
And thank you everyone who defended this story to daphne  
and Cindy!  
  
~*~ 7/Bad Night ~*~  
  
Officer Dean--one of Spike's arresting officers--drummed his  
fingers on the paper with the anonymous tip. So far, Officer  
Dean had received two names to work from: Angelus, and   
Liam McDowe. Liam McDowe had come up with a man who  
had moved to Los Angeles from Ireland, spent a brief two   
week period in Sunnydale, went back to Los Angeles, then  
moved back to Ireland. Angelus had come up with the   
international criminal, based in Ireland and based in the greater  
Los Angeles area. Perhaps the two had a connection.  
  
Dean had a creeping suspicion that Liam McDowe and Angelus  
may've been the same person. After all, where Liam McDowe  
stopped, Angelus picked up. They had nothing to nail him with,  
and the Liam McDowe lead had come up bone dry. They   
couldn't very well send the force to the address in Ireland.  
  
Dean shook his head and sighed. Maybe the diamond-napper  
had called up and thrown them off her lead. Or his. Who  
knew. Dean certainly didn't.  
***  
  
Laim paced the room. Darla watched him, regretting having  
told him that someone had told him his moniker. Liam McDowe  
and Angelus too closely paralleled on paper, and the police  
knew that Angelus had bases in Los Angeles (where Liam McDowe  
had lived), and in Ireland (where Liam McDowe "currently lived").  
  
"Liam?" Darla asked softly.  
  
Liam rounded on her, eyes hard and all jagged edges. "Who tipped  
off the police?"  
  
"I-I don't know," Darla stammered. She brushed her hair away   
from her face. "Maybe Buffy?"  
  
"Buffy doesn't know shit," Liam spat. Then the proverbial light  
bulb went off over his head. "William. Spike. Whatever his name  
is."  
  
"Spike," Darla offered timidly.  
  
"Doesn't matter. He won't be for long. He'll be Puddle soon," Liam  
jumped up and grabbed his jacket. "I'm going to find him and make  
him wish he didn't disobey me."  
  
Darla closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had to go warn  
her cousin. Or he was going to die.  
***  
  
Darla crawled into the dingy Motel 6 Spike was staying in. He   
wasn't paying anything, and he used the window as the door. He  
snapped awake and grabbed his knife, holding it to Darla's throat.  
"What do you want," he ground out throw gritted teeth.  
  
"Spike, it's me," Darla whispered. "Darla."  
  
"I bloody well know who you are," Spike spat, rising to his feet and  
backing away from her. He was mostly clothed, all but his duster  
and extra shirt on. "What do you want?"  
  
"It's Liam," Darla told him. "I found out someone donated an   
anonymous tip to the cops. He thinks it was you. And Spike--if  
he finds you, he'll *kill* you, regardless if you made that call or  
not. He's been trying to set you up since he found out you know  
about what he stole--he set you up with the murder of those two  
teachers. He knew that if he planted everything just right he  
could get you on murder and not have to worry about you getting  
in his way. And with all the press surrounding that, everyone  
would forget about his--"  
  
Spike clamped a hand over her mouth. "Why should I trust you?"  
  
Darla looked at him and waited for him to take his hand away.  
"Because you're family, Spike. We're the only family we have left,  
and...I just want to help you. But if you don't get out of here  
right about now you're going to end up even more dead."  
  
"If this is a trap, Dar, I'm going to haun' you for the res' of your  
bloody life, go' tha'?" Spike replied, losing control of his t's.  
  
Darla nodded, glad that he was trusting her. She watched him  
grab his bag, pause for a moment and give her a one-armed   
hug, and spring out of the window. She just prayed that she'd  
told him to run in time.  
***  
  
Spike crept through the park as noiselessly as he could. He hid  
behind a tree every time a car passed by, or ducked behind the  
bushes every time he heard footsteps. He began to think he  
was in the clear when someone snuck up behind him and kicked  
the small of his back with the heel of their boot. Spike tumbled  
to the ground, grunting.  
  
"Thought you could get away with it, huh?" Liam growled,   
grabbing him by the colar of the shirt closest to Spike's body.   
He kicked the duffel bag from Spike's arm and tore the extra   
shirt and duster from the smaller man's body.  
  
"Get away with wha', mate?" Spike answered, voice strained as  
Liam wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled his hair back   
with another hand.  
  
"Get away with trying to turn me in," Liam kicked Spike's feet  
from under him, Spike's head landing on the grass with a dull  
thud. Spike saw stars for a moment. Liam pressed his foot to  
Spike's chest heavily, preventing him from breathing properly.  
"I suppose you did." He picked the boy up and threw him   
roughly into the tree, punching him across the jaw. "Since you  
went into hiding and all that."  
  
The corner of Spike's mouth was bleeding and the back of his  
head probably was too. A couple of his teeth felt loose from the  
power punch. Spike kicked Liam's lower stomach as hard as he  
could, but Liam simply rolled out of it, holding Spike's foot as he  
did. He heard his ankle crack loudly and pain shot up his leg, but  
he ignored it, struggling to get away.  
  
Liam pounced on him and grabbed his hair and pulled his hair back.  
"Don't cross me, William."  
  
Spike seriously doubted he wouldn't have whiplash by the end of  
this.  
  
Liam released Spike's head, the boy's nose slamming into the sidewalk  
and busting open, beginning to bleed. Liam rolled him over and sat on  
his stomach, suppressing his lungs and rendering the boy harmless.  
  
Sirens went off down the street. Squad car sirens. Liam's eyes   
flickered to the dancing blue and red lights, gave him a last punch and  
kick, then tossed him behind the bushes and strolled away. Spike  
had enough sense left in him to stay behind the bushes until the  
police passed by, but then he crawled out and limped the opposite  
direction of Liam. He could only hope that the man had left the park.  
  
He pulled himself along the sidewalk, his aching lungs heaving from the  
brutal beating. A car slower down beside him and the driver's side  
window slid down.  
  
"Spike?" Xander asked, poking his head out the window.  
  
"Xander," he replied, panting and wiping the blood from the corner of  
his mouth.  
  
"Get in," Xander said, unlocking the back door. "Your limp is   
ridiculous."  
  
"Thanks," Spike answered dryly, limping into the car.  
***  
  
Willow drove down the highway, noticing how little the traffic was. It  
was unusual to have such little traffic at this hour. She looked down  
to change the radio station and heard a van honk on the other side  
of the median.  
  
She looked up and shook her head, silently admonishing the van for  
driving so close to the median. She looked back down briefly to fiddle  
with the radio dial, and heard metal scraping against metal. The van  
had crossed over the median!  
  
Willow cursed the two lane highway and tried to swerve the same time  
the van did.  
  
The van floored it and drove straight for Willow.  
  
It slammed into Willow's car and shoved her into the railing and the car  
rolled over twice and landed upside down. The door had crumpled and  
the window had caved in, spraying her with shards of glass. The air-  
bag pinned her to the seat and her seatbelt tore. The airbag had forced  
her arm up at a funny angle, and the moment Willow moved it broke.  
***  
  
Oz and Buffy paced the waiting room of the Sunnydale hospital. They'd  
received a call from Willow's mother that Willow had ended up in the  
hospital and probably needed some familial support, but she couldn't be  
there for her daughter. So she had contacted the boyfriend and the  
best friend.  
  
The doctor came out of the room.  
  
"How is she?" Oz sprang over.  
  
"She's fine," the doctor smiled. "You can visit with her for a little   
while if you want."  
  
"Thank god," Buffy sighed in relief. "Let's go, Oz."  
  
The doctor led them to Willow's room. He held open the door as Buffy  
and Oz entered the room, and left them to their friend.  
  
"Hi Wills," Buffy smiled.  
  
"Willow," Oz hurried over and hugged her gently.   
  
"How are you feeling?" Buffy sat next to the bed.  
  
"Hi Oz, hi Buffy. My arm hurts, they say it's broken, but other than  
that I'm just a collage of bodily soreness," Willow sighed. "They had  
to stitch up my forehead," she touched the bandage on her forehead  
with her good hand, "but I'm okay besides that."  
  
"It was pretty bad, huh," Buffy smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be. It wasn't your fault. I'm just glad I was the only one in  
the car," Willow shrugged with her good arm. "The airbag broke my  
arm."  
  
Buffy and Oz laughed a little. "I'm just glad you only got a broken  
arm and stitches," Oz kissed her forehead. "It could've been worse."  
  
"Yeah," Buffy agreed.  
***  
  
Xander pulled into the emergency room parking lot. He and Cordelia  
helped Spike, much to his chagrin, hop into the emergency room   
itself. Within moments they had Spike hop into the room next door  
to Willow's.  
  
He didn't break his ankle, the x-rays said after they'd brought a   
machine out to take pictures of his ankle, but he did sprain it pretty  
good. They wrapped it up in an Ace bandage.  
  
Buffy and Oz walked by the room, and Xander caught sight of them.  
  
"Hey!" he called.  
  
Buffy and Oz stopped and looked at Xander. "Hey yourself," Buffy  
replied. "What're you doing here?"  
  
"Cordy and I brought Spike here. We found him beat up by the   
park," Xander told them.  
  
Buffy's eyes went wide and she entered the room. "Spike," she  
sucked in a breath. "You look like hell..."  
  
"I feel like hell, and thanks, luv," he answered, rubbing his neck  
gingerly.  
  
"What happened?" Buffy walked over and sat on the little bed-type  
thing he sat on.  
  
"Your ex beat the hell out of me," he confessed.  
  
"My poor baby," Buffy frowned and repaired his hair a little with   
her hand. "Oh...oh Spike...you're bleeding back here."  
  
"I figured," Spike sighed. "Hey whelp, hand me tha' towel over  
there."  
  
Xander tossed him the towel and Spike held it to the back of  
his head. "Bloody sod. I'm outta here."  
  
"You have to be discharged," Buffy protested.  
  
"I'm outta here," he repeated, getting off the bench-type bed   
and hobbled out of the room.  
  
Buffy sighed. "He's stupid."  
***  
  
Monday morning, Joyce opened up her gallery and turned off  
the security system, to find it already off. She frowned, she  
could have sworn she turned the security system on the   
previous Saturday. So, just in case, she made her rounds to  
the paintings.  
  
She rounded the corner and found a large, gaping white empty  
space where their most valuable painting had hung.  
  
"No. No..." 


	9. 8/Woke Up This Morning

8/Woke Up This Morning  
  
Thanks again to everyone who's commented positively!  
  
Boots, daphne, Cindy--you three have the audacity to tell  
me that my fic is so far in the AU realm that you can't   
distinguish the characters to the originals without reading  
past the first chapter. I'd bet you three only read the   
summary.  
  
The songs used in the beginning is Nickelback's "Woke Up   
This Morning" and "Where Do I Hide".  
  
Talking that should be in quotations but are surrounded by  
colons are things said from the person the person called...  
if that makes any sense.  
  
A short part, but I promise a bigger one next time! I just  
didn't want to end up cutting off half of it like I did with part  
4.  
  
~*~ 8/Woke Up This Morning ~*~  
  
Spike's head pounded in tune with the music drifting up  
from the room below his.  
  
---I felt like shit when I woke up this morning---  
  
He groaned and rubbed his eyes. An empty bottle of Jack  
and two bottles of Guinness lay not far away. Three crushed  
cans Coors Light was strewn about the dingy room, and a  
half empty six-pack of Corona lay on its side by the window.  
  
---I've been a loser all my life, I'm not about to change  
If you don't like it, there's the door, nobody made you stay---  
  
He rolled over and tried to stand up, but his ankle almost gave  
out on him. He remembered what happened the night before  
and sighed, getting up again and hobbing over to the sink.  
  
---There ain't a woman on the planet that can deal with it  
Just how I wanted it, I'm hating all of this---  
  
He glared at the floor and yelled for the people below him to  
turn off the stereo as loud as he could without making his head  
explode. The music stopped, right after the last line:  
  
---Now I know why...  
I felt like shit when I woke up this morning---  
  
He splashed water on his face in an attempt to feel better. The  
alcohol binge was not a good decision...  
***  
  
Buffy waited for Spike to answer his cell phone. "C'mon, pick up,  
pick up," she whispered. She needed to tell him about the painting  
being stolen from the gallery.  
  
:Hello,: he groaned.  
  
"Spike. Hi," she said.  
  
:Princess,: he stumbled over something. :Ack...:  
  
"Are you okay?" she frowned.  
  
:Yeah, peachy, luv. Popped my bloody ankle last night and I  
have the bloody mother of all hangovers, just tripped over an  
empty bottle of Guinness...: he sighed.  
  
The people below him started playing their stereo again and  
Buffy could hear it.  
  
"Well...I don't mean to put a damper on your mood, but someone  
broke into Mom's gallery last night, or on Saturday night," Buffy bit  
her lip, waiting for Spike's reaction.  
  
:Bloody hell,: he muttered.   
  
---Got a criminal record, I can't cross state lines  
First on the bad list, you're last on mine---  
  
:Pro'ly Liam...: he told her. :But...what were you lot doin' in the  
hospital last night?:  
  
"Visiting with Wills. She got in a car crash," Buffy shrugged.  
  
:'Ow?: he asked.  
  
"Yeah," Buffy sighed. "She looked pretty bad."  
  
:Not "ow", luv. 'Ow as in the question,: Spike answered.  
  
"Oh. Um, she says a van crossed over the median and crashed  
into her on the highway," Buffy replied, feeling silly.  
  
:Ow,: Spike commented.  
  
"Probably just ran over the strip and got her from the side," she  
told him.  
  
Spike groaned. :Ow as in the word synonymous with ouch, pet.:  
  
---I still hear him screaming "where do I hide?"  
And all he asks and I say "hurry inside"---  
  
"Well then. I just wanted to tell you that Mom's gallery got   
robbed. So...I'll see you later?" Buffy asked hopefully.  
  
:Maybe. Love you,: he hung up.  
  
---He said, she said... no she don't  
Be back before morning, you know she won't---  
  
Spike got dressed as quickly as he could and limped towards the  
window, throwing his duffel bag into the tree he used to get to   
the sidewalk. He carefully sprang into the tree, ignoring the   
throbbing in his ankle, grabbing his duffel bag and shimmying   
down the tree. He started down the sidewalk casually.  
***  
  
Oz paced the hospital waiting room, waiting for visiting hours  
to start. Xander entered the waiting room and looked at Oz.  
  
"Hey man," Xander said. "How you holding up?"  
  
"When did you turn into a surfer?" Oz raised an eyebrow.  
  
Xander rolled his eyes. "Just wanted to know how you were  
doing. Buffy called and told me that Joyce's gallery's been  
robbed."  
  
Oz raised an eyebrow. "Would someone please fill me in on  
the big scoop?"  
  
Xander looked around cautiously and motioned Oz over,   
proceeding to explain what Spike had told him and Cordelia on  
their way to the hospital. "Liam used to go out with Buffy too."  
  
"I see," Oz frowned. "So...the most valuable painting in the  
gallery goes missing, Willow ends up in the hospital, and Spike  
gets the proverbial hell beaten out of him in one night. This  
has 'Liam' written all over it."  
  
"Yeah. The way Will described the van coming at her it wasn't  
an accident," Xander filled in. "It was an on-purpose-ent."  
  
"Right. But why knock Willow out of the picture?" Oz wondered.  
"Either way--I want to set this guy up. I already have the   
beginnings of a plan."  
  
"We'll talk about it after we visit with Will," Xander nodded.   
Visiting hours had started.  
***  
  
Oz and Xander met at Xander's house and went down into his  
basement. "Okay Oz, let's talk this plan of yours out."  
  
"It's really a one-person plan, Xander," Oz looked at the darker  
haired man.  
  
"I wanna help," Xander told him firmly.  
  
Oz sighed. "I'd probably need help anyway..."  
***  
  
Spike limped into Xander's neighborhood. He figured Xander might  
help him out after last night, not that he really wanted the younger  
guy's help, but any help was better than no help.  
  
Darla popped up in front of Spike. "Hi."  
  
"Bloody hell," Spike growled. "What do you *want*?"  
  
"I want to help you," Darla said. "Listen, Spike, I didn't want to  
get caught up with Liam in the first place, all right? He just...  
sucked me in. I fell in love with him, he pretended to love me back  
for a while, and then he started having me go along with his   
'missions' and stuff and Spike, I really didn't want to help him. So  
now I want to help you to make up for all that I've done with him."  
  
"He caught me last night, Dar," Spike walked on the sidewalk,   
passing Xander's house on purpose.  
  
"I know, and I'm sorry. I called the police and told them he was at  
the park...that's what drove him off," Darla told him sincerely. "I knew  
he was going to kill you..."  
  
Spike shook his head and turned around. "I'm going to my girl's friend's  
house. Since you're tellin' the truth, let's see if you can help us out."  
  
They made their way to Xander's basement and knocked on the door.  
Oz opened it. "Spike, hi...and...?"  
  
"Can we come in?" Darla asked.  
  
"Let them in," Xander called from somewhere further back in the  
room.  
  
Oz held the door wider and watched Darla and Spike enter. Xander  
saw Darla and narrowed his eyes. "Billy Idol, you playing--"  
  
"This is my cousin, whelp," Spike glared. "I would never do tha' to  
Buffy."  
  
"I'm Darla," she smiled.  
  
"She wants t' help us out," Spike sat down on Xander's sofa. "She's  
in tight with Liam."  
  
Oz sighed. "So now we have five people helping this operation?"  
  
"By the way, what *is* the plan?"  
***  
  
In the end, Team Scooby Doo had six members: Oz, Xander, Spike,  
Darla, Cordelia, and Buffy. The plan was to first get Darla to take   
Oz to Liam and convince Liam that Oz was really wanting to support  
Liam's plan. Oz would then go to Joyce's gallery, where Buffy had   
already let Xander in. Xander would wait in the back with a large,  
blank canvas covered in a sheet and load it onto a nondescripit   
truck with Oz and Spike would follow them in his car down to Liam's  
lair. Meanwhile, Spike would call Cordelia and give her the address  
to the lair. Buffy would "find" the gallery "broken into" and the find  
one of the painting's "missing", call the police, and while the police  
were investigating the crime scene, Cordelia would call them. Then  
the police would rush over to the lair and catch Liam, Oz, and Xander.  
Then Oz and Xander would reveal all they had was a purchased   
canvas. Not the best of plans, but a plan nonetheless.  
  
"All right," Spike said. They'd drawn a crude map of Sunnydale and  
used miscellaneous objects from around the basement to serve as  
themselves. "So...this is wha' we're gonna do."  
  
Xander and Oz set up the pieces at the gallery where they should  
be, and the pieces around the town. Darla had long since left as  
to not arouse Liam of any suspicions. The pair set up the figurines  
and Spike went over the plan once more.  
  
"What do we do now?" Xander asked.  
  
"We set the plan in motion," Buffy piped up.  
  
"Let's go, then." 


	10. 9/Double Agents

Part 9/Double Agents  
  
Thanks to everyone who's commented positively--especially  
Jane McCartney, Kelley, and Isabelle, and Ursubear for following  
this entire...saga.  
  
Also! Cameos by: Drusilla, Jonathan, Andrew, Warren, and Queen  
C!   
  
~*~ 9/Double Agents ~*~  
  
Darla met Oz outside of Joyce's gallery. She smiled at him.  
"I hope none of us gets torn up. Angelus...can be...very...very...  
dangerous."  
  
"I know," Oz shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Can you take me  
to him now?"  
  
  
"Not yet. He'll be back around," she checked her watch, "...five   
minutes ago. I guess we can go. He'll be angry with me if I'm not."  
Oz nodded. Darla took a deep breath. "All right. Let's go."  
***  
  
Oz stood before Liam, or, formally, Angelus. Liam looked him over  
and nodded, satisfied with what he saw and heard. "You would be  
willing to give up all that to join my cause?"  
  
Oz nodded, "Yes, sir. I would."  
  
"And you say you have access to areas the rest of my charges   
don't? Like what, Oz?" Liam stood back and studied the boy's   
pointed face.  
  
"For instance, Joyce Summers's gallery," Oz supplied.  
  
"We've already gained access there," Liam narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Au contraire, monsieur," Oz said. "I can gain access without  
setting off the alarm system--and without turning it off. I can  
also get into the Bronze without triggering any security systems."  
  
Liam was intrigued by that. "I'll give you a test drive. Get me a  
painting from Joyce's gallery, bring it back here. The most valuable  
one. If you manage to get here without triggering any alarms, or   
notifying the police, you can stay. If you do, I'll kill you."  
  
Oz nodded. "I have an accomplice who was detained from this  
meeting. He's trustworthy, and will assist me in the removing of  
this painting."  
  
"Very well," Liam told him dismissively.  
  
Oz nodded and left the lair.  
  
Liam turned to Darla, who had been lurking in the shadows. "If he  
betrays me, it's your neck. If you told him our plan..."  
  
Darla's eyes took on a haunted quality. "No, sir, I haven't said a  
word about it."  
***  
  
Xander had been let it in by Buffy. She'd given him the codes for  
the alarm system and he had turned it off, waiting, hunched by the  
door, for Oz to arrive. Spike's car had pulled up and he'd ducked   
into the alley nearby, waiting for Oz to show up as well. Oz's van  
pulled up and the boy jumped out, opening the door and trusting   
that Xander had turned off the alarm system and unlocked the door.  
  
"I don't trust Darla," Oz announced as he followed Xander back to  
storage room.  
  
"Why not?" Xander replied. "She seems trustworthy enough, even  
if she's Spike's cousin."  
  
"I just...don't trust her," Oz squinted in the dark room, running his  
hand along the wall to see if he could find the door knob. "It's...  
there's something...the matter with her. Like she's playing double  
agent."  
  
"She is," Xander rolled his eyes. "Remember?" He lifted the blank  
canvas covered by the sheet up.  
  
"Not double agent for us," Oz told him, finding the door and twisting  
the door knob. "Double agent for Liam." He pulled the door open for  
Xander. "Like she and Liam set this plan up and then helped feed   
our plan."  
  
Xander shook his head. "Spike seems to trust her, and Spike has   
major trust issues. So if he trusts Darla, then we should trust her.  
It's a whole big trusty thing."  
  
"Stay here," Oz told Xander once they'd stepped outside. "I'm gonna  
get my van."  
  
Moments later, Oz had backed the van up as close as he could to the  
gallery. Xander opened the back and shoved the canvas inside,   
walking around to the passenger side and hopping in.  
  
"Let's go."  
***  
  
Buffy drummed her fingernails on the coffee table, staring at the   
clock sitting on the mantle. She had five minutes to wait before she  
would go to the gallery and "make sure" she'd set the alarm and such  
things. She bit her lip as the minute hand ticked off one more minute.  
She was tempted to call Spike to pass the time, and besides, she   
missed him.  
  
She snatched the phone sitting next to her on the coffee table up  
and dialed the first six numbers of Spike's number and sighed. "C'mon  
Buffy, just call him," she muttered. She pressed the last number and  
waited for Spike to pick up the phone.  
  
:Hello,: he said distractedly.  
  
"Spike, hi," she said. "How are things so far?"  
  
:Odd and the Whelp just left the gallery so I'm on the road now,: he  
told her. And, like she wasn't supposed to hear, :It's my girlfriend, you  
bloody pillock!:  
  
"Huh?" Buffy asked eloquently.  
  
:Bloody wankers on the bloody road honkin' at me to get off my bloody  
phone,: he muttered. :...Bloody hell. Where'd the van go?:  
  
"Spike?" she inquired, rising to the brink of panic. "Spike? You can   
find them again, can't you?"  
  
:Sorry luv, I have to go.: He hung up.  
  
Buffy sighed and turned the phone off, gathering her purse and   
sprinting out the door to her car. She'd go to the gallery and everything  
would be fine. Everything would be fine.  
***  
  
Liam looked over his shoulder at Drusilla. "Dru," and then over his other  
shoulder, "Darla. It's time to form a plan of our own."  
  
The women nodded.  
  
"Darla, their plan?"  
  
She took a deep breath, felt like she was sinking into the floor, and   
proceeded to explain Team Scooby Doo's plan.  
***  
  
Spike slammed the heel of his hand on the steering wheel, cursing the  
entire night and the entire plan and the entire mess. He still hadn't   
found the van again, and he had a feeling they'd gotten off the highway  
at the last exit ramp. So he turned around, dodging cars swerving around  
him headed the opposite way, and veered off the last exit ramp.  
  
Their plan was falling apart, already.  
  
Spike's ankle throbbed painfully in his boot but he ignored it as he nearly  
put the pedal to the metal. He careened around a corner and almost   
smashed into the back of...  
  
...Oz's van.  
  
He'd found it. The plan was back on track.  
***  
  
Liam smirked. "They don't exactly have the greatest tactitians, do they,  
Darla?"  
  
"No sir," Darla answered.  
  
"That's all fine and dandy," Drusilla interjected. "But...it's actually a good  
plan for a bunch of eighteen-year-olds. What are *we* going to do, my  
darlings?"  
  
Liam immediately snapped into tactitian mode. "Send Jonathan and Warren  
to intercept Buffy at the gallery. Oz and Xander should be here soon with  
Spike, so Darla, you go out and pretend like that's where you're supposed to  
be. Drusilla, go find Spike's car and...detain...him. Send Andrew to   
intercept Cordelia."  
  
Drusilla's lips curled into a cruel smile. "It is done, Liam."  
  
Darla nodded, "It's as good as done."  
***  
  
Buffy carefully drove to the gallery. She didn't want to get there and catch  
Xander and Oz in the act of "stealing" a painting from the gallery, despite the  
fact she'd just spoken to Spike about it earlier. So she was glad that when  
she pulled up to the curb that both the van and Spike's DeSoto were gone.  
  
She took a deep breath and stepped out of her car, locking it. The minute  
she looked up, she was flanked by two guys: a guy with black hair and a   
shorter boy with brown hair. They didn't look exactly threatening, and she  
recognized them from school.  
  
"Warren?" she frowned. "Jonathan? What are you two doing here?"  
  
"We just wanted to say hello," Jonathan said, offering a friendly smile.   
Her frown deepened.  
  
"And we also wanted to say..." Warren started. The next thing Buffy felt  
was something hard and heavy smack her in the back of the head, followed  
by darkness. "...Sweet dreams."  
  
Jonathan glared at Warren. "You didn't have to hit her so hard."  
  
"Our orders were to intercept her," Warren told Jonathan. "What else were  
we supposed to do?"  
  
"Keep her from going inside," Jonathan argued. "Our orders were to   
intercept, not knock her out."  
  
Warren hung his head and whapped Jonathan in the back of the head.  
  
"Ow!" Jonathan rubbed the back of his head. "You're so mean, Warren."  
  
"You're such a girl, Jonathan," he told the shorter boy. "Let's get her out  
of here."  
***  
  
Cordelia frowned. She and Buffy had decided that Buffy would call   
Cordelia as soon as she got to the gallery, and then after the police got  
to the gallery, she would call her again so she would know when to call  
the law enforcement. She'd yet to receive either phone call. She'd even  
called Buffy's house and was told by Joyce that Buffy had left more than  
a half-hour ago to go to a friend's house, or that's what Buffy had told   
her.  
  
That found Cordelia walking down the sidewalk towards the gallery, head  
down. She was concerned for the plan and worried something bad had  
happened to Buffy. Maybe Liam had somehow found out about their plan?  
Cordelia's mind immediately snapped to Darla.  
  
"That traitor," she grumbled. "I knew we couldn't trust her..."  
  
"Excuse me, are you Miss Cordelia Chase?" a boy with blond hair stepped  
out of the shadows.  
  
"What's it to you?" Cordelia snapped without thinking.  
  
"Xander told me to tell you that something went wrong with The Plan," the  
boy said. "Whatever The Plan is."  
  
Cordelia's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"  
  
"I'm Andrew," the boy said, his nasal voice starting to grate Cordelia's already  
frazzled nerves.  
  
"Why would Xander tell you anyth--" Cordelia crumpled as Andrew whacked  
her on the head with the same thing Warren had smacked Buffy with.  
  
"He didn't," Andrew muttered. "Liam did," he hefted the girl into his car.  
***  
  
Spike tried to call Cordelia for the fifth time. She'd still yet to pick up the  
phone. He'd left four messages and was about to leave his fifth when   
Drusilla suddenly appeared by his window. He dropped the phone, staring  
at her.  
  
Drusilla opened the driver's side door. "William."  
  
"Dru," he blinked rapidly. "How did you--"  
  
"It doesn't matter. Liam has a little surprise for you," she taunted,   
gripping his hand and gently pulling him out of the car. Spike, still in a  
daze, complied without thinking. She led him to a door marking one of  
the many entrances into the actual lair. Where Spike had parked was  
the first layer of the lair, a large airport-like parking garage with various  
expensive cars littered around. The walls were an ugly, putrid brown and  
the ceiling was a sickly gray.  
  
Drusilla led him through the door and into an elevator. The elevator   
consisted of the same putrid brown walls and sickly gray ceiling, only  
these were accompanied by a disgusting hospital green carpet. The  
buttons lit up an eye-scorching red as Drusilla pushed them.  
  
"Love what they've done with the place," Spike murmured sarcastically.  
  
Drusilla laughed and the elevator jolted into movement. The descent was  
painstakingly trying for Spike's patience. Every part of their plan except  
for the beginning had fallen apart. Cordelia would've answered her phone  
if something hadn't happened to her or Buffy, which meant the two girls of  
Team Scooby Doo were actually in trouble. And he felt so helpless, he   
couldn't do anything right now, except...  
  
Drusilla held a hand gun to his temple. "Move and I'll blow your head off,  
boy," she hissed.  
  
"I wasn't--" Spike tried to protest.  
  
"Don't speak," she told him. "This gun is loaded. It will blow your bloody  
head off."  
  
Spike froze, averting his eyes to the ground as his breath caught in his  
throat.  
  
"Good boy."  
***  
  
Darla waited by the service entrance as the van containing Oz, Xander,   
and the "painting" rolled up. Oz frowned and hopped out. "Darla? Aren't  
you supposed to be inside?"  
  
Darla nodded. "I came out to see what was keeping you guys. Traffic?"  
  
"You could say that," Xander told her. "Where do we take the painting?"  
  
"I think Liam actually wanted to come out and greet you guys," Darla said.  
She felt awful about spinning these lies and knowing that eventually these  
two were going to have to be "detained" and dragged inside, unconcious.  
She had originally started out wanting to help Team Scooby Doo, but her  
"love" for Liam had won out and she wanted to help him more.  
  
Oz nodded. "Well, where is he?"  
  
"Get the painting and come here. I'll call him," Darla told them. Xander   
obediently got the "painting" out of the cargo area of the van and approached  
Darla, dragging Oz with him.  
  
She slammed the butt of her gun on both of their heads and placed it back  
in its holster around her waist. "Sorry, guys, but what Liam says goes around  
here."  
***  
  
When Buffy came to, she was tied to a pole with Spike on the other side.   
Their wrists were tied to each other's and their waists were tied to the   
pole. Buffy found her ankles tied together and a piece of cloth tied around  
her head, preventing her from speaking. She came to the conclusion that  
Spike probably had received the same treatment, except she could hear him  
rustling about on the other side--not to mention feel it by the way the ropes  
rubbed her wrists raw.  
  
From where she sat, there was another pole she could see to her left.   
Cordelia was tied to it by herself, and she still remained unconcious. To the  
right was another pole, where two unconcious male bodies sat. She figured  
they were probably Oz and Xander.  
  
Suddenly, the only door inside the room opened. Bright light cascaded their  
visitor into shadow, preventing Buffy from identifying who it was.  
  
Spike growled and managed to chew through the gag in his mouth. "Let us  
go, you bloody pillock."  
  
"Not likely," Liam responded, stepping into the room and closing the door.   
The light instantly disappeared until Liam flipped a switch near the doorframe.  
Light flooded the room.  
  
Buffy snapped her eyes shut. She made a moaning sound, trying to   
complain against the invasion of electricity.   
  
"Where's that lying li'l bitch of a traitor?" Spike demanded.  
  
"Who, Darla?" Liam asked innocently.  
  
"No, the ghost of bloody Christmas past," Spike snarled. "Who do you  
think?"  
  
"She's dead," Liam said simply.  
  
"You *bastard*!" Spike roared. "She was my *cousin*!"  
  
"I know. She also broke the code," Liam shrugged. "Now, what to do  
with five snot-nosed brats...?"  
  
Xander managed to chew through his gag as well by now. "Un-gag us,  
Liam. We promise not to speak out of turn."  
  
"Hm, well, I am getting tired of talking to William," Liam agreed. He   
ungagged Oz and Cordelia and Buffy. He stopped at Buffy. "Buffy," he  
caressed her face as Spike seethed. "Still looking lovely as ever."  
  
"Go to hell," she spat.  
  
"You got an attitude," he smiled. "Beautiful," he kissed her roughly.  
  
"GET OFF OF HER!" Spike shouted angrily.  
  
Liam actually did as Spike yelled at him to do. He also pulled a gun   
from his waistband and held it at Spike's temple. "I don't think you're  
in any position to be telling *me* what to do, William."  
  
Spike looked up at him, ice blue eyes ablaze. "Let them go and I'll stay."  
  
"Nah, I think you'll be the first to go," Liam released the safety on the  
pistol, much to Buffy's horror.  
  
"Leave him alone, Liam!" she cried.  
  
"After him, I think I'll go do Xander," Liam said thoughtfully, carelessly  
playing with the trigger on the pistol. "And then that brown-haired kid.  
And that other girl. Then you can stay with me, Buffy."  
  
"I'd rather die," she told him through gritted teeth.  
  
"Then maybe I'll kill you and let this impertinent brat live," Liam shrugged,  
nearly pulling the trigger on Spike.  
  
Spike, meanwhile, was working hard but discreetly to work his hand from  
the rope bindings. "No, if you kill her, I'll kill you, Liam. You can *bet*  
on that."  
  
"Can't have that, can we?" Liam smirked. "Stop trying to get free. You're  
just going to rub your wrists raw. And if you don't, I'll pull the trigger.   
Doesn't matter to me."  
  
"No, I think if you were gonna pull tha' trigger, you'da done i' already," he  
taunted Liam. He was actually rather frightened, for his life and for every-  
one else's lives. His fear showed by his losing control of his t's.  
  
Liam shrugged. "See you in hell, bastard."  
  
And he pulled the trigger. 


	11. 10/In the Hospital...

10/In the Hospital...  
  
A special thanks to Destiney, who I keep forgetting to thank.  
You've commented so much on my fic, and I feel like such a   
heel for repeatedly forgetting to thank you.  
  
Again, thank you to everyone who's commented positively.  
Cameo, you can go to hell, honey. I'm glad you like to express  
your feelings, but...try reading more than one chapter.  
  
~*~ 10/In the Hospital... ~*~  
  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Buffy wailed, heartbroken. She  
burst into tears as blood began to pool beneath Spike. He hung  
limply in his bindings, his eyes still open and his body still. "NO!"  
She couldn't push any other word out of her mouth. Then she   
started to go into shock. "No...no...no..."  
  
Xander glared at Liam. "What'd you do that for?!"  
  
"That was really low!" Cordelia piped up. Xander shot her a look   
that plainly said to stop talking and maybe Liam would forget   
about her.  
  
"He didn't do anything," Oz added. "And look at what you did to  
Buffy."  
  
So much blood. Way too much blood. His hands were starting to  
lose their warmth. He was going to die. Oh god, Spike was going  
to die.  
  
She managed to maneuver her hand around in the ropes so she   
could grip Spike's hand in hers. Once she threaded her fingers   
through his, she didn't feel the little squeeze the hand of the dying  
peroxide blond bad boy gave her. She dismissed it as the ropes  
pulling at her hand, or her imagination.  
  
"Oh my god, that's so much blood," Cordelia muttered from her pole,  
looking sickly green. It wasn't too much longer before she vomited.  
  
"Which one of you is next," Liam walked slowly around the room. He  
quickly passed Cordelia, stopping at Oz and Xander. "One of you   
two, I suppose. Which of you is Willow's boyfriend?"  
  
Neither answered.  
  
Liam kicked both of them in the gut. "Which of you is attached to   
Willow Rosenberg? Come now, I know it's one of you."  
  
No one noticed the woman standing in the doorway until she spoke.  
No one had even noticed the door had opened. "It's the brown haired  
kid with the pointy face."  
  
Everyone looked up at the woman standing there, a gun pointed at  
Liam's head. She held her stomach, but one could see blood seeping  
out of a stomach wound.  
  
"Put the gun down. I won't hes-hesitate to shoot you," she told him,  
her voice wavering.  
  
Liam laughed. "You? Kill me?"  
  
"Don't test me," she growled. "You killed Spike. An eye for an eye."  
  
Oz stared at her, being closest to the door. Cordelia kept her head  
hung, her face still green. Xander tried to crane his neck around the  
pole, and Buffy was still shocked by Spike's death to barely even  
move.  
  
Oz saw another someone's silhouette sneak up behind the woman in  
the doorway. The woman crumpled as the butt of a pistol landed on  
the back of her head.  
  
"Nuisance," the new woman said, shrugging.  
  
The first woman shot the new woman in the leg.  
  
"Ow!" she cried, falling into the room.  
  
"Drusilla!" Liam exclaimed. Then his eyes shot to the woman   
struggling to her feet in the doorway. Liam abandoned his pistol on  
the floor and knelt next to Drusilla's prone body.  
  
"Untie them," the first woman commanded. Everyone still had yet to  
identify her.  
  
Liam didn't move.  
  
"Untie them, damn you!" she yelled.  
  
Liam glared.  
  
The woman shot Drusilla in the back. "Move!"  
  
Liam rose to his feet, untying Cordelia, then Xander and Oz, and   
finally Spike and Buffy. Buffy simply moved around and settled   
herself in Spike's limp lap.  
  
Oz and Xander rose slowly, Xander rushing over to Cordelia once  
he was standing. Oz stared at the woman in the doorway.  
  
"Willow?"  
  
"The police should be here any minute," she said gruffly. Moments  
later they heard sirens. Police stormed the place.  
  
Willow dropped the gun, staring at it as it clattered to the floor. She  
gripped at her stomach painfully, falling to her knees. Oz was at her   
side instantly.  
  
"Somebody call 911!" Xander yelled over the noise of the police officers  
hurrying in and handcuffing and subduing Liam.  
  
A few minutes later, someone yelled in reply, "The paramedics are on   
their way!"  
***  
  
Willow and Spike had immediately been rushed to the emergency room  
and operated on. Willow had a series of stitches on her stomach from  
when one of Liam's minions tried to slice and dice her on her way in.   
She had managed to subdue the minion and take his gun. The moment  
Spike got to the hospital, he hadn't reacted to anyone or anything. His  
eyes were closed, and his lungs worked sluggishly, as did his heart.   
Darla had also been found and admitted into the hospital, but had been  
proclaimed DOA--dead on arrival.  
  
Drusilla had somehow managed to flee farther into the lair and was   
found by the officers, paralyzed from the middle of her back down, on  
the staircase. Willow had had a deadly aim with that pistol.  
  
The rest were deemed well enough to leave, except Buffy had rubbed  
her wrist so raw that it had bled. They'd wrapped it up in a bandage and  
told her to take it easy.  
  
"Who is Mr. Walthrop's next of kin, Miss Summers?" the receptionist asked.  
  
Buffy looked down the hallway where Spike's room was, and looked at the  
woman behind the desk. The woman studied her intently. "Me."  
  
"And what relationship are you to Mr. Walthrop, Miss Summers?"  
  
"I'm his fiancée."  
***  
  
Joyce had rushed to the hospital as soon as she received a phone call  
from the distantly cold Buffy. When she arrived at the hospital, she   
found Buffy pacing in the waiting room, rubbing her bandaged wrist   
nervously. "Mom," she looked up. Joyce ran over and hugged her   
daughter, who returned the embrace mechanically. "They won't let me  
wait for him in his room..."  
  
"What happened, Buffy?" she asked.  
  
Buffy looked at Joyce beseechingly, then proceeded to burst into tears.  
She shuffled over to am empty chair in the corner.  
  
Joyce turned to Xander. "Xander, what in the world is going on?"  
  
Xander took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's a long story,   
Joyce. You'd better sit down."  
  
Oz sat on the coffee table near Xander, Joyce, and Cordelia, deciding  
to aid in the telling of the tale.  
  
"Liam was an international criminal of some kind," Xander started.  
  
"Sort of a terrorist," Cordelia added.  
  
Joyce looked horrified as she covered her mouth.  
  
"So when Liam started threatening Spike," Oz said, "and even beat him  
up in the park, and when he had a truck put my girlfriend in a car wreck,  
we decided to get him back for it."  
  
Joyce gasped. "That's so dangerous...why didn't you just tell the   
police?"  
  
"Buffy said she tried, and that's why Spike got beat up," Xander told her.  
"So we came up with a plan this..." he checked his watch, "yesterday  
afternoon and set it in motion. The specifics of the plan don't really   
matter, just that it was a whole not very good plan to infiltrate Liam's  
lair. Spike's cousin, Darla, decided she wanted to help us out."  
  
"I didn't trust her," Cordelia and Oz said at the same time. They glanced  
at each other and laughed softly.  
  
"So Darla actually ended up telling Liam about our plan," Xander sighed.  
"Or so we think. And somehow Liam managed to get all of us unconcious  
and tied up in some cellar in his lair. Willow, we thought, was still in the  
hospital."  
  
"We came to and found Liam taunting Spike, and Spike egging him on,"  
Oz picked up. "Buffy was kinda horrified."  
  
"Liam threatened to kill us all, and Spike tried to bargain for our lives   
with his own. Liam said that Spike was going to be the first to go, and  
Spike said that if Liam was going to shoot him he would've done it   
already," Cordelia told Joyce solemnly.  
  
Xander picked up the story then. "Liam shrugged and said, 'see you in  
hell, bastard' and pulled the trigger on Spike. Willow then came in and  
kicked some serious behind for someone as injured as she was. I mean,  
the girl had just been in a car crash and she got sliced and diced in the  
hallway trying to rescue us."  
  
"She's my brave girl," Oz murmured, more to himself than Joyce.  
  
"Are they going to be okay?" Joyce wanted to know, seriously worried.  
  
"Spike...we don't know if Spike's going to make it," Xander said softly,  
trying not to upset Buffy. "Will's going to be fine, and Darla's dead."  
  
"Oh my," Joyce rubbed her temples. "Are you three okay?"  
  
"We're fine," Cordelia offered. "I'm just a little queasy from all the  
blood."  
  
Joyce turned to face Buffy. "Honey, are you okay?"  
  
Buffy shook her head and buried her head in her arms resting on her  
knees.  
  
"She's really traumatized about this," Oz whispered. "For awhile all  
she could say was, 'no'."  
  
Joyce bit her lip and moved over to her daughter, who curled up as  
close on Joyce's lap as she could.  
***  
  
A week later, on Tuesday, Buffy rushed into the hospital and down  
to Spike's room. The man was in a coma, having been shot in the  
shoulder and losing a lot of blood. Apparently, Liam wasn't the best  
aim with a gun. But every day since the incident, Buffy had run to  
the hospital as soon as she could and visited with him. Today was  
no different.  
  
She entered his room quietly. The heart monitor next to his bed   
beeped softly in time with his heartbeat, and two tubes extended  
from his nose to a life support machine nearby. He was dressed in  
an open-backed, minty green hospital gown. Pristine white pillows  
propped his head up, the top one with a dent in the shape of his  
head. It looked like he hadn't moved since they'd laid him there--  
which, in all logicality, he hadn't.  
  
"Hi honey," Buffy said softly, sitting in the red chair next to the  
bed. "I'm here. Again. I brought you something though." She  
dug in her backpack for something. "I know it's tradition for the  
guy to ask this question, but you kinda can't do that right now. I  
told the receptionist lady that I was your next of kin, and that I  
was your fiancée. So...William Walthrop, will you marry me?" She  
opened the ring box she'd pulled from her backpack out. "And yes,  
I can officially ask you this now. It's my birthday today, I'm eigh-  
teen, and I'd be honored to share this day with you." She slipped  
the simple gold band on his finger. "I saved all my lunch money to  
buy this for you, and then I borrowed some money from Mom.   
She knows I was going to buy you a ring, but she didn't know why.  
Or if she knew, she didn't say anything.  
  
"So where were we in the book, hm?" she pulled a book out of her  
backpack. Spike's favorite book--Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's  
Stone. But no one was supposed to know that except for herself.  
"Chapter seven? All right."  
  
She began to read from the book in a desperate attempt to pull   
her fiancée out of his coma.  
***  
  
Around five-thirty, Buffy's voice started to become raw.   
"Goodness," she rasped. "Guess I read more than I intended too."  
She sighed. "I love you, you know that, don't you? I guess I kinda  
took advantage of it before, since I figured you'd always be there.  
But...Spike...I may lose you," she didn't even try to stop the tears  
from spilling over onto her cheeks, "and I need you. I need you baby,  
and if you die, I...I don't know what I'd do..."  
  
She rested her forehead on his leg. "Spike, don't die...please don't  
die..."  
  
Suddenly, she felt stiff fingers slowly stroke her hair. "No one's,"   
grunted a scratchy voice that hadn't been used for more than a   
week, "gonna die..."  
  
The fingers stopped moving as much and Spike fell silent again. But  
his eyes remained half open.  
  
Buffy's eyes went wide. "Spike?" she whispered, fearing it was dream.  
"Spike...you're awake!"  
  
"Yes," he grunted.  
  
"Oh, my baby," she couldn't help herself and started crying again. This  
panicked Spike.  
  
"Princess?" he asked, not as scratchy anymore. "Okay?"  
  
"I'm okay," she affirmed, "I'm just so happy you're awake..."  
  
Spike managed to smile for her. Then he noticed the ring on his left   
finger and gave her a questioning look.  
  
She smiled back at him, wiping away her tears. "William Walthrop, will  
you marry me?"  
  
He smiled. "O'course." 


	12. Epilogue/Normal

Epilogue/Normal  
  
This one is different than the rest of the ones in this series. It's from  
Buffy's point of view, and takes place directly after "In the Hospital...".  
Sadly, this is the end of the BtHSS. I'll have you know I have had a  
wonderful time writing this, and I'd like to take the time, right now, to  
thank anyone and everyone who's commented positively. Now this  
is gonna go from July 26, 2001, to today: thank you to Sun-chan,  
kaylin, Jade, Angelus, spike's babytalk, Kelley, Meg, gyrlfriend,   
Levi Truelove, Riel, Jane McCartney, Ashley, Lila, Ursubear, Angelic  
Gemma, fluffypuff, Isabelle, cosmic, Amelia, Belladonna, nina de majia,   
and Destiney. Thank you all. Boots, Cindy, daphne, and Cameo...think  
what you will. You're probably not reading this, but I still felt the  
need to say it.  
  
~*~ Epilogue/Normal ~*~  
  
For some reason, someone put me under the delusion that my life  
is normal. That *I* am normal. Who, in their right mind, asks their  
boyfriend, who's in a coma, to marry her? I suppose I was desper-  
ate. The doctors had been talking about pulling the plug on him,   
and I would have been the one to sign the papers. And, quite   
frankly, I don't know if I would have the strength, the willpower,  
the mercy in me to sign those papers, even if it would've freed him  
from any pain he'd been feeling.  
  
Maybe I should go back and explain. Two years ago, two days after  
my sixteenth birthday, my boyfriend Liam had returned from a trip to  
England. He'd brought back a scroungy-looking little lanky sixteen-  
year-old boy with him. He had brown hair, ice blue eyes, and he was  
mostly skin and bones. The moment I laid eyes on him, I had felt  
sorry for him.  
  
Until he saw that pity in my eyes, and a fire lit underneath those blue  
orbs, melting the ice away. He'd told me some biting remark, something  
about my looking like a cheerleader or something, but I'd dismissed it  
as him being an asshole. In fact, I had entirely dismissed him and gone  
inside.  
  
The next thing I knew, that boy was being shuffled upstairs to the guest  
room with everything he owned and shuffled back downstairs to get  
something to eat.  
  
Me? Not happy. Him? Joyous.  
  
Then I learned his name was William Walthrop, and my mother had  
decided to take him in as part of a foreign exchange program type thing.  
William bit my head off when I called him that the first time and told  
me that if I ever did it again he'd cut my finger off and feed it to my  
neighbor's dog. He then told me his name was Spike.  
  
That really scared me off from him, and the more I knew him, the more  
I found out he was an asshole and a jerk. But underneath that   
exterior, he had a soft spot for girls in trouble. A sort of damsel-in-  
distress complex. When he tried to talk to me at school for the first  
month or so, I congenially told him to piss off. Then I managed to  
poison my friends against him, except for Willow. Xander immediately  
took to jovially making fun of the now-blond punk.  
  
So, much to my chagrin, I found out he was in a lot of my classes. That  
summer I was happy to get away from the house, but the boy seemed to  
follow me like a lost puppy. I think that summer he had a crush on me or  
something. Like he would ever admit that to me.  
  
But during my senior year, back in beginning of December, or the middle,  
I don't remember, my feelings started to change for him. I started to  
think about him more and more, and he uncovered the god-awful truth   
about the boyfriend I adored. He comforted me that night, and then  
proceeded to spend the next twenty-four hours "shagging" some skanky  
ho he picked up at the Bronze. Who, by the way, happened to work for  
my boyfriend's secret international underground organization.  
  
Needless to say, that pissed me off a little.  
  
Then he got arrested for the alleged murder of two teachers at Sunnydale  
High School, but was arraigned and released from custody later that   
week. After that, Spike, Xander, Willow, this guy named Oz, and I got   
stuck in Saturday detention. That was the first time I let my feelings for  
him manifest. We made out in the broom closet...not exactly the most  
romantic-y of places but suitable for that purpose.  
  
He started avoiding me after that for a little while. So my mom kindly  
suggested I take him to the Bronze with me. So I did. And he almost  
stomped out. But I told him that my mom would be angry with me if  
he didn't stay, so he stayed and we danced. We danced a lot. And I  
found my emotions shifting towards positive to him, much to my   
chagrin. I found him in our backyard after coming home from the Bronze  
talking with his cousin, the bitch, Darla. After that, he left the house.  
I tried to go with him, but he wouldn't let me.  
  
The time he spent away from me and my mom drove me absolutely up  
the wall. I couldn't stand being away from him, I couldn't stand having  
privacy, I couldn't stand eating breakfast alone and not arguing with  
him on the way to school. In short, I had it bad and I hadn't even   
realized it until he was gone.  
  
One night, Willow, my mom, and I went to the Christmas tree lot, and  
I ran into him there. I kissed him on the spot, and he kissed me back.  
We didn't realize we were so into each other until then. I tried to help  
get Liam off his back, who was blackmailing him by then, but I ended  
up getting him abused in the park after he and I went to the Bronze for  
a Christmas party and declared our love to each other. That night,  
Willow also ended up in the hospital after a bad car crash. Then we  
came up with a plan to trap Liam and ended up being trapped ourselves.  
Liam shot Spike in the shoulder, and my boyfriend ended up comatose.  
Which brings me back to my first point: would a normal girl ask her  
boyfriend to marry her while he's comatose? The answer, in all honesty,  
is probably no. So I guess I'm not normal. But quite frankly, I don't  
think I want to be normal--Spike loves me the way I am.  
***  
  
Anyway, it's been a month since I asked Spike to marry me. It's February  
14, Valentine's Day. Mom had decided to knock down the wall between  
out rooms, giving us the freedom of basically the entire second floor of   
the house. We had a phone with our own phone number and line, a king-  
sized bed, two stereos (one is mine, one is his), my television with cable,  
and all sorts of odds and ends from our separate rooms.  
  
But anyway, we decided that it would be best to go and be social for a  
little while, then come back home and be love-bunnies. Okay, not so   
much bunny. Either way, whatever we were going to do, it was special.  
  
I went downstairs, joining Spike in the living room. I wore an old-  
fashioned red dress along with the locket he gave me the previous  
Christmas, and a cheap, plain, immitation gold ring on my left ring finger  
(I bought it for myself to keep the hospital staff under the illusion I was  
his fiancée). Originally, I hadn't planned to ask him to marry me, but it  
was a last-ditch effort to pull him out of his coma. Not that I wouldn't  
want to me Mrs. William Walthrop. But, Buffy Walthrop? God, talk about  
a fumbling name.  
  
So I joined him in his old DeSoto and we went to the Bronze. We danced  
and we sat around a table and talked with the other two couples in our  
groups, Xander and Cordelia and Willow and Oz. Suddenly, Spike kissed   
me and took my hand, leading me up on stage once the band finished a   
certain song. He picked up the microphone, much to the chagrin to everyone  
else.  
  
"First of all, sorry to you, mates, only gonna be a couple minutes.   
Secondly," he turned his gaze on me. "I have somethin' I wanna say to the  
blond in the little red number," he smirked and I felt my cheeks grow hot,   
"wearing the cheap little ring she bought herself while I was in a coma."   
  
Suddenly, he started to sing softly. "You are so beautiful, to me," he   
caressed my cheek, "can't you see? You're everythin' I hoped for, you're  
everythin' I need...you are so beautiful, to me..."  
  
I couldn't help it. The gesture was just so sweet and selfless and in that  
moment I knew I would never love anyone else. Tears began to spill over  
onto my cheeks.  
  
"Buffy Anne Summers, I love you. If you would do me the honor," he got down   
on one knee, "of making me your husband, you'd be making a decision that   
would make me the happiest man on Earth. Pretend like you never proposed to  
me, 'cause I want this to be traditional like."  
  
I wiped my tears away without being rude. He set the microphone down and  
opened a red velvet box to reveal a gold band with three tiny diamonds set  
in a row. "Please?"  
  
I nodded, my lips trembling into a smile. "Of course, silly. Did you think I'd   
say anything else?"  
  
He smiled at me, and the world disappeared. He removed the old ring from my  
hand and tossed it into the sea of bodies I didn't even know existed anymore,  
and slipped the much more expensive, much nicer ring onto my finger. Then  
he proceeded to kiss me entirely breathless.  
  
Yeah, I'm normal. Really.  
***  
  
That night, when I walked up to Spike's and my room, I found a piece of  
paper taped to the window, fluttering in the wind. I opened the window and  
pulled the note from the glass.  
  
And dropped it like it was liquid fire.  
  
**DEaR buFFy:  
  
*******I'm baCk...  
  
**HuGs aND kIssEs...  
  
******yOu kNOw wHO 


End file.
